#People just did not get him. Hes hard for people to pin down because most of us havent pinned ourselves down.

[aliceinborderlandsquidgame]

Theirs. | BandaSunato x GN!Reader x YabaOki | AIB HCS

Summary: 3 Killers in love. All could go wrong (for others).

Warnings: Blood - Gore - Killing - Before and during Borderlands - Jealousy - Two red flags - Violence

PRE-BORDERLANDS:

Lets start with how this relationship works. Yaba is probably the most cold head of the three. Its the one who manages to control Banda when he wants to go on a killing rampage and also the one who basically makes you do something other than sleep.

Because here is the thing. You are very clingy to them and possessive of them. But also very lazy. This turns on your days being you sleeping, watching TV, going down the dark corners of the internet looking for a good snuff movie to later share with your two beloved ones. Its only when you end jealous or feel the "push" that you end killing someone. But you are more tone down than Banda.

Banda is the one who would go for cuddles himself. Why ? Because he knows you dont mind the blood. Even if its after a recent kill. He may come up to you with blood all over his hands, arms, face, there is smell and its hot. But you dont mind. He will hug your waist and let his head on your shoulder as he tells you about how he did murder his last victim and that you should come up with him and pick a victim together.

Yaba its the one who puts on the facade that you three are roomates and that you two work from home so no one things its strange that he is the only one who goes out. The others knows more people lives with him since they hear...noises when they swear Yaba just left.

Banda and You like to get funny when he is not home. All to be recorder and send to him just to bother him and show him what he is missing for "Having to be normal and do work". It often its one of them having the other pinned down with a intense makeout session and some knife play if Banda feels like it, and most times he indeed does feel like it.

It gets both of them on trouble once Yaba gets back. He is not angry per se just frustrated with them for distracting him during work.

He would make them do the same they did earlier only that now he gets to tell them when they can cum. And Yaba can be quiet sadistic about it. He sees it on the way your body and Banda's tremble and how erratic your breath gets, he knows both of you are so close and yet he order you both to stop. Sometimes he even leaves and you two are obliged to finish alone without the other or if he feels like being good will let both of you use him to finish.

~○~○~○~○~○~○~○~○~○~

"Really (Y/N)?" Yaba asks as he sees you having too much fun with one victim. The safe house he has for Banda and You is outside Seoul and its used specially for this moments.

He cant let two murders bring bodies to their home...the place would smell terrible.

"What?" You ask with a small pout "This one was staring at our Banda for too long"

"Were they?" Yaba asks removing his coat and getting closer. Your victim a young male blinks between being awake and pass out. "And were is the other?" Yaba ask already knowing

"Banda is having the other one. Said it would be funnier if we shared" You respond pulling out from a glass a worm and forcing it inside the ear of the Man.

Banda appears, covered in blood a evil smile on his face. He kisses Yaba knowing the older Man will get mad from getting his white shirt dirty. He then turns to you and shows you a small intestine that he passes around the neck of the now crying guy.

"Aww dont cry. You are wearing your gilfriends organs!!" Banda taunts and the Man cries even harder.

"Oh! Here" You pull your old polaroid camara out and snap a pic of the Man then one of Banda and the Man, Banda making the sign of peace. "Beautiful" you say showing him

"Alright you two, finish him off so we can clean this up" Yaba says smiling at your antics. "But let me some fun first" he says going off then returning with a hammer, aiming it at the man ribs before slamming it hard.

"Uh, bad day at the office?" Banda asks amused.

"You got no idea" Yaba responds going for the knee next.

~○~○~○~○~○~○~○~○~○~

BORDERLANDS

At the Borderlands the three of you would be known quickly. If anyone has the bad luck of meeting one of you at the games then some plead the game kills them, because you three are famous for taking survivors and torture them.

You three are the ones who most likely would end being permanent residents. The idea of returning never really crossed your minds. There you three could be free.

Banda could go and kill as he wanted,  Yaba could relax and you could cling on them as much as you wanted.

When the Prision Game started there was a woman who eyed Yaba for too long not knowing who he was or that you were just a few meters away with a chocolate at hand.

Banda whistle at your side already getting aroused by the idea of what you were going to do to her.

"Im...im going to cut her ears off and make her eat them. Then I will make her see how the three of us fuck and then I will kill her with my hands" You whisper already moving on autopilot pulling out a fake smile to catch her by suprise.

Banda and Yaba stood at the side as you pushed her head against the wall hard forcing her to enter a cell. They followed not wanting to miss the bloody show you were going to give them.

[sysig]

Anime good :) (Patreon)

[craptainkirk]

I don't think that society was ready for captain kirk. Common interpretations of him Ive seen in media are that hes a jerk and a womanizer and he has a big ego and hes dumb. They profoundly missed the mark. I think that society sees sexuality as so scandalous that he was branded as a whore. He is a man who is deeply sentimental and he feels and loves so deeply. He also fucks and that's a beautiful thing. He loves freely. He doesnt see women as objects. He sees them as beautiful and deserving of respect. He loves and admires every single woman hes with. Society just wasnt ready for that. They werent ready to see a man so comfortable in his own skin so romantic so sensual and so brave with his own heart. They said. This man is inappropriate

[inbabylontheywept]

the fine and subtle art of arguing with old men

it was a good week for testing which meant it was a slow week for me. most of my job is fixing the machine when it goes down. if it doesn't go down, i don't have much to do. 

fortunately neither did marc. in a site full of ornery old bastards, he's the oldest and the orneriest, so it goes without saying that i enjoy spending time with him. he reminds me of my grandpa. hell, he reminds me of a lot of people. i've befriended enough grumpy old men that i've got a sort of momentum to it now - you know how it is, when you meet someone that reminds you of someone else you really like. you get to start that friendship off half built, because you already have an idea of how to like that guy, and some of that old warmth can be brought to the new friendship. a little ember to start the stove up with.

(i think that's one of the really undersold beauties of getting older. you stop viewing people as strangers and more like remixes of friends.)

anyway, i was sitting next to marc and we were talking about the future. i've got my eye on having kids sometime soon (year or two? hopefully?), and he's very happy for me. i've tried asking him for advice, but all he says is that he didn't do a great job with his own kids and they still turned out okay, so i should stress less and trust myself more. i hope he's right. he believes it, at least, and it's a hell of a thing to have the faith of an old man. his faith is hard won.

as for his plans, he's retiring at some point in the next six months, and is hoping to sell his home and buy something in florida. he's republican, so he views the state as paradise, and i'm not inclined to even try talking him out of it. it's his dream, you know? i know for a fact my paradise would be a lot of people's hell. life's funny like that.

still, we kept going on, and it was a good time, and then he reminisced about the last time he got close to quitting - back around 2020. our job required getting vaxxed, and he refused, and there was a big kerfuffle about it before the job actually backed down. i know there's not a lot of sympathy for the unvaxxed out here, but the man's 62. you get the shot when you're under 30 to protect the people around you, but when you're over 60, you're just getting it to protect yourself and it's hard to be mad at someone for kicking their own ass. 

still gave me pause though. i knew he wasn't going to take it well, but half the job of collecting curmudgeons is keeping them around, so i said 

hey. i'm sorry they bent your arm over it, but.

but. 

you should really get that shot. 

and he looked over at me, and i looked at him, and he actually spat. not on me, just the concrete, but it was enough to show that he was mad. then he walked away, as abrupt as anything.

i felt bad about it. i wasn't sure what i'd expected, when he was willing to lose his job over it before, but i'd been so invested in his dream of retirement - the idea of him sipping margaritias on a beach next to his wife, the wife he calls every day during lunch, the wife he says is the one thing in life he ever got right on the first try. the wife that almost divorced him back when he was in the airforce because he just wasn't home enough. 

(but he can be home now.) 

and then he mentioned the vax thing, and it was like seeing a pin hit a balloon. he works out every day and takes all sorts of crazy vitamins and is generally committed to getting the most out of his pension and his life. i didn't want this dumb weak point to be his achilles heel. 

---

i wasn't actually sure how long marc would be mad at me. i've seen him stay mad at some people for weeks. i wasn't sure if being friends would make that time go up or down. 

it went down. i'm glad it went down. 

he stopped being mad about two days later. we were doing front end maintenance one morning, and it was just that simple mechanical rhythm - hex key, replace the anode sheets, punch some off-gassing holes, oil it up, put it back in - that put things at ease. it always does. people working there are too busy to remember grudges, and it has this sort of mandatory practical communication that helps smooth things over. it was going great, and then out of the blue he said babs, you gotta be careful giving advice. those shots come with complications. what would you do if i got that shot, had a stroke, and died? 

and i don't know what answer he was expecting, but i just told him the truth, which is that i would be devastated. i'd feel like i killed him. i thought that was a pretty normal response, but he looked taken aback. he asked why i said it then, and i said i'd have felt the same if he died of covid. that's just life. sometimes, there's no way forward that doesn't risk some kind of regret. 

we finished the tube after that, in a silence that felt heavier than peace but lighter than anger. it felt like the ball was back in marc's court. like it would be rude to take that turn from him. 

we parted ways with a nod and didn't speak until the next day. 

---

i was doing spreadsheet work when he found me again. standard paper engineering - thinking of things we might need and ordering them in batches, months ahead of time. it always feels a little like plugging holes in a dam with my fingers. 

but he popped up, and we didn't even exchange pleasantries. he just said i'm gonna die one day, and you can't blame yourself for that. 

which is a hell of a thing to just tell someone right off the bat. 

so i said what 

and he said babs, i am in my 60s. something is gonna get me eventually, and whether it's covid or heart disease, or a stroke, there will be something you could have said or done before. and that's okay. it's not your job to make me live forever. 

and you know, he actually made a lot of sense. so i said 

okay. 

i'll keep your business yours. i just

you were talking about your retirement before this. and i want that for you very much. you've worked hard for 45 years, and you deserve a break. we're getting to sick season, and it would be the saddest fucking thing in the world if you got this close to winning the race then tripped in the last ten feet. 

and we sat there a few moments longer. i wasn't sure what to say, and i wasn't sure what he'd say, but eventually he just shrugged and said

yeah 

then he left. i figured that would be the end of it. 

---

i did front end maintenance yesterday, after being gone a week. it's one of my favorite things to do. i like working with my hands. i really like working with my hands. i'm glad i went to college, but in a different life, i think i could've made a better electrician than an electrical engineer. 

and at one step, when we were both hoisting the plate back onto the machine, his sleeve rode up, and i saw two bandaids on his arm. 

we finished the install, and i was ready to go back when marc actually stopped me. 

i got the shot, he said, almost embarrassed. like he'd been caught. and i knew he was gonna say something dumb about it, so i just cut him off by giving him a hug. 

i was relieved. hugging old men is kind of like picking up cats. if they like you a lot, they'll tolerate it, but that's about it. we sat there maybe three beats before his hands went up, and then he gave me one overly-hard thump on the back. in my experience, this is how old men tell you that they're done, so i let him go.

carla talked me into it, he said, almost defensive. his wife. his one good decision.

tell her i said thanks, i said back.

trump got the shot too, he said, less defensive, but oddly pleading. like he was consoling himself.

like he was nervous.

then it's gotta be safe, i said, and he looked up at me, strangely searching, strangely vulnerable. i don't know exactly what he was looking for, but i guess he found it because after a few moments his shoulders relaxed.

yeah, he said, one hand on the back of his head.

it's gotta be.

[dementedkittenribbon]

Friends with benefits

Rafe Cameron x fem reader

Your heartfelt confession goes wrong.

CW: Unprotected sex, daddy kink, brief angst, dirty talk, Rafe is a jerk for a while.

You were lying on your back, Rafes thick cock filling you up as he thrusted deep and hard inside you, leaking cum into you and onto the mattress. His thrusts came to a halt, sweat came off his forehead as you both moaned in each other's mouths. It was the third round, you both had been apart for a few days too long. Something that rarely happened in the months you both had been hooking up. Rafe rolls off you, wiping off his face with a hand and you sigh as the painful reality starts to hit.

After you both have sex, he never stays.

It happened the first time at one of his parties, one you had been invited to by your cousin Barry who was responsible for providing cocaine and booze when you had met Rafe. He was charming, hot and rich. His body was like a god’s, long with lean muscle strong enough to pin you down on the bed and fuck you relentlessly as he did nearly everyday. Multiple times in a row. You were familiar with his dick and the way it filled you up expertly, hitting every pleasurable sweet spot you had.

But there was one issue.

You actually had fallen in love with him. Why wouldn’t you be? He was everything you wanted. Strong, independent, crazy, passionate and a slew of other things most people didn’t pay attention to once he flashed them his credit card. Something he used on you too. He bought you clothes, updated your car, phone and your meals whenever you both actually hung out somewhere. He treated you decently, for his reputation at least.

You lean on your elbows as Rafe gathers his clothes on the ground, slipping on his t-shirt. “You’re not staying?”

He paused and shuffled around pulling on his shorts. “No. Why? I never stay.” He says to himself and absently waves you off. You swallow with a pang of hurt before wrapping yourself up in the sheet.

“Maybe you could this time. I don’t want you to leave.” He stopped this time, giving you an incredulous look and curled his lip.

“I don’t get it? What is it? Is something wrong?” He asked and you were losing your nerve as you tucked a hair behind your ear.

“Nothings wrong, I just want you to stay with me. You never do.”

Rafe rolled his eyes. “Yeah, I know that’s why I’m leaving. What’s gotten into you? Been acting weird all fucking day.”

“I’m not acting weird I’m just asking a question.” You said defensively and he set his hands on his hips.

“Why? Why do you want me to stay?”

That was the question of the hour. One you wanted to answer and run from. But you promised yourself if you had the opportunity, you would be honest with him. So you took a deep breath and spoke. “Rafe. I want you to stay with me because…I have feelings for you. This isn’t just fucking for me anymore. It’s more. And I want-“

“Stop.” His voice was stern as he stepped closer to the bed and bent down to your lower. “That’s a mistake. I told you from day one what this is and what it will always be. Just sex. If you can’t handle that, then it’s not my problem.”

You felt your heart shatter as he stormed out of the room, leaving you broken. You buried your face in your hands and started crying. How could you be so stupid? How could you even consider he would feel the same way about you as you did for him? He was Rafe Cameron for god's sake. Why did you even bother telling him? Your own personal resolve? It was stupid and so were you.

You got out of his bed, put on your dress and shoes. You reapplied your makeup. If you were going to be sad, you were at least going to look good at the same time.

-

Rafe hadn’t seen you-fucked you-in over a week. You kept avoiding him and he hated it. His hand went to knock on your door, he knew the way to your house with his eyes closed but he hadn’t expected another car to be in the driveway. It wasn’t anyone he knew. So some stranger was here? Maybe a new friend?

It wasn’t like he was extremely active in your personal life but he knew you well enough. Several seconds went by as he waited at the door and he grit his teeth impatiently. What the hell was taking you so long?

He was about to call you when you opened the door. He arched an eyebrow as he took in your nice sundress. You usually never wore it unless you were going out. Your hair was braided with a flower crown. He crossed his arms with a pang of…what was it? Interest? Of course not.

“Took you long enough. Why haven’t you texted me back?”

“I’m not at your beck and call, Rafe. You know that right?” You quipped and he snorted. Attitude too?

“Yeah, whatever.” He rested a hand on the doorframe above you, leaning down with the intention of kissing you when a male voice called your name.

Rafe’s eyes narrowed when he saw a tall, not as tall as Rafe, male with brown eyes and brown hair. He could just tell by the way he was dressed that he was a pogue too. He gave him a look and wrapped his arms around your waist from behind. Pulling you against him and Rafe wanted to reach forward and punch him in the face.

“Something wrong?” He stared at the other male who asked you that question.

“What the fuck? Who the fuck are you?” Rafe shouts and moves forward but you hold up your hand.

“This is my boyfriend. Josh.”

“Josh? He’s a fucking pogue,” Rafe spat out the last word and Josh immediately straightened his shoulders but you stepped inbetween them.

“Give me a minute.” You said before shutting the door and stepping onto the porch. Rafe crossed his arms and flexed his jaw. He couldn’t stop himself from being upset even though he knew logically he had no right to be.

“Rafe. You need to go.” You told him softly. “You need to leave and we can’t talk anymore. I have a boyfriend. And whatever that was? It’s over.”

Rafe laughed humorlessly. “You can’t be fucking serious. Is this because of what I said last week? Is this some kind of joke?”

Your eyes hardened and you stepped closer. “No. It’s not a fucking joke, Rafe. I’m in a relationship now. And it has nothing to do with the other day.”

“Bullshit. As far as I’m concerned-“

“Enough!” You shouted and pointed at his chest. “This isn’t about you, Rafe! It’s about me for once. I met him. And now, we’re going out. It’s that simple. Don’t like it? You had your fucking chance, asshole. And you treated me like shit. And this conversation is over.” You spin around at that and slam the door behind you.

Right in his face.

Rafe knew he had made a big mistake as his eyes squeezed shut. He was an asshole to you. Pushed you away too far. And now…

He’d lost you.

-

You hadn’t talked to him in six months. Half a year and now you were pounding on his door after 3am crying when he opened it, eyes wide with a range of emotions. “What the fuck?” He muttered before ushering you in. “Get in here, it’s raining.”

You quickly stepped into his house, wiping away tears and smearing your mascara. “I’m sorry, I know I shouldn’t be here but I didn’t have anywhere else to go.” You sobbed and Rafe immediately set his hands on your shoulders.

“It’s okay. What’s wrong? Why are you crying?” You were back. In front of him. And he wasn’t going to ruin any chance he had. He was afraid you’d disappear again.

Your blue dress was almost black from the rain. Your shoes probably ruined from the mud, you didn’t drive?

“Did you run here?”

You nodded. “Yeah, Josh was driving my car. And we…we got into a fight.” Rafe stiffened and his blood went cold as you lifted up your arm.

You had a hand print around your wrist.

“Did he do this to you?” He growled when you nodded again with watery eyes.

“Yeah. He didn’t want me to hang out with my friends today. And I told him I could do whatever I wanted so he grabbed me. Wouldn’t let go either. I finally just got out of the car and started running. We were close by so…” you sniffled and Rafe felt nothing but rage at your confession.

How dare anyone put a hand on you?

“I’ll be right fucking back.” He says with a set jaw. You step in front of him.

“No, where are you going?”

“Where do you think I’m going? I’m gonna fuck him up.” Rafe tries to move around you but your hands fly to his chest, holding his shirt.

“No, no, don’t leave me. I don’t want you to go. Not again.” You buried your face against him, crying harder and rafe was frozen for a second.

Don't leave again. Your words echo in his mind as his arms encircle your shoulders and pull you even tighter against him in a warm embrace. He wasn’t accustomed to hugging people. He didn’t have anyone close enough to him to encourage such motions but now…he could stay like this forever. Your head tucked underneath his chin, arms around his waist. You were still crying but he knew you felt safe.

He said your name quietly after several seconds and gently tugged you back. “Listen, I want to say something.” And he cleared his throat. Months of waiting, hoping and even fucking praying that he would get a chance to speak was finally in front of him and he didn’t want to fuck it up.

“I know, I’m sorry.” You stepped out of his hold, wiping underneath your eye. “I shouldn’t have bothered you. You have better things to do. I’ve stayed here too long.” You shrugged and gave him a fake smile. “I shouldn’t have bothered you.”

“Bothered me? You’re not bothering me, I want to tell you something.” He tried to interrupt but you kept going.

“It’s stupid. Me coming here. Especially with how we last ended things. I know I showed up completely without warning-“

Rafe crushed his lips to yours, silencing you and causing you to make a surprised sound. His fingers set on your hips while his other hand cupped your jaw and he sucked your lower lip, slipping his tongue inside briefly before stopping the kiss. “Just let me talk,okay?” He said breathlessly and briefly rested his forehead against yours before taking a step back.

“I’m sorry. For everything. I never should have left you. I-I like you, okay? I always have, I was just too much of a pussy to admit it. And I was an asshole. You didn’t deserve that.” It wasn’t much of an apology but Rafe wasn’t good with words. “But you’re mine. I don’t fucking share. And Josh or whoever he thinks he is, he’s done. When I deal with him, he’ll know that.” He promises you.

He waited for you to speak as you bit your swollen lower lip and looked at him with big doe eyes. His gaze trails down, you were pressing your knees together. “Let me ask you something…” Rafe began. “Did he fuck you as good as I do?”

You gasped at his question and he smirked. “I asked you something, baby girl. It’s bad manners if you don’t answer. Or did he allow that too? Did he let you act like a bad girl?” Rafe nudged your knees apart with his, causing you to gasp and your back hit the wall.

“He didn’t fuck me as good.” You whispered and Rafe nodded.

“Course he didn’t. He doesn’t know you the way I do. He doesn’t know how to please that tight little pussy. But that’s okay. I’m gonna show you exactly how well I remember you.” He reached down, lifting you into his arms, your legs wrapping around his waist as he met your lips.

Rafe kissed you with a feverish passion as he kicked open his bedroom door, slamming you on the mattress without breaking the kiss. You tasted sweet like sugar as he shoved his tongue in your mouth, searing you with a force you’d missed for six months.

He lifted up your skirt, revealing that you weren’t wearing any panties. Rafe laughed darkly. “That’s my girl. Always a fucking slut.” He separated your thighs, showing your arousal pooling out of you and he dragged a finger along your slit. “Dumb little bunny. Thinking this could ever be for anyone else.” He circled his thumb on your clit, causing your back to arch off the bed.

His digit stays there before he trails them down, pressing a finger inside your entrance, making you moan underneath him as he wraps his other hand around your neck. He pushes another one inside, curling them both upward and you mewl.

“Oh fuck, daddy I needed this.” You manage and he smirks down at you as you’re struggling to even speak.

“Yeah? Needed daddy to fuck you?” He says against your neck, pumping harder causing you to whimper and claw at his shoulders.

“Mhm, please fuck me with your cock. Want you to fill me up.” You beg him and he smiles wickedly.

“Since you asked so nicely, baby girl.” He pulls back, sucking his fingers before tugging off his pants and boxers. His dick low and heavy in between his thighs. His thick tip presses against your clit as he rolls his hips, teasing you and you whine louder.

“Please, daddy, god, please!” He finally grants your wish and thrusts into you. Hard.

The bed squeaks against the floor as he rocks forward, your hand wraps around his throat, choking him gently and he groans and licks his teeth. “That’s fucking it. That’s my girl.” He rasps and picks up his pace.

He humps you with a brutal rhythm, no source of kindness in his movements as he fucks you. “You. Are. Mine.” He growls as you tighten around him. “Say it, fucking slut. Tell me.” He lightly slaps your cheek and you gasp.

“I’m yours, daddy!” He taps the other side of your face.

“Again.”

“I’m yours!”

“Again.” He spits in your mouth, making you swallow it and you shudder, releasing all over his cock as you scream out.

“I’m yours, daddy! Fuckkk!!” You squeal and he bursts inside you, filling you up just like he promised and it drips onto the sheets. He continues thrusting, messily searing you before he collapsing on you, his lips resting on your forehead.

You’re shocked at the tender way he kisses your head, peppering your skull and hairline as he rolls off, pulling you to his chest. His fingers trace your shoulder, goosebumps raising on your skin as breaths in and out. “I’ll never leave you again. I’m sorry I ever did.”

“I know.” You answer back and blink away watery eyes. “Let’s just stay like this for a while, okay?” You ask and he nods.

“Always. But I’m still gonna fuck him up.”

[sugar-plum-writer]

Company Cam-Girl <3

Tags: Gang-bang [Toji, Sukuna, Gojo and Suguru]; Use of toys [vibrator]; slight-bondage; size-kink; camera; public-exposure; nsfw + more nsfw; porn with slight plot; manhandling; unprotected sex; spanking; over-stimulation; cream pie; c*mplay; rough sex; lot's and lot's of very dirty talk; explicit; MNDI!; (18+); smut

A/n: This is probably the most explicit thing I might have written; my hazy imagination is getting too much. This period is killing me so it's just pure filth, this is pure porn with a little plot so MDNI!

Synopsis: What happens when a slight back talk results in getting railed and over stimulated like crazy by 4 big men in the sex-toy company?

Word count: 2.6k

[Pic not mine I randomly found it on the internet; I'll change it the owner requests ]

Your heels clicked on the floor as you walked, the place you worked was- explicit to say the least. You would have never expected to work in a company like this when you graduated- literally; a sex toy manufacturing company? beyond your wildest dreams

You were working here all because of pure desperation. Broke with college debts does not make life easy. The position gave good pay, insurance, good bonus, what else could you ask for? hence you continued working.

You worked in the marketing department which was a headache as it sometimes made you wonder how to advertise certain devices.

"Y/n- the manager is calling you to discuss the latest high-intensity vibrator ad!", one of your colleagues yelled giving you the papers and walking away

You looked at the paper which outlined the build, the components, the types of intensity, movements, etc normal people would look away and even be embarrassed but- after a while, it became average to you like another Tuesday.

"Alright, tell him I'll be there, " you yelled, browsing the pages as you entered the office.

x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x

"This design is so outdated… we need a new design-", Suguru muttered as he sat at his desk scrolling annoyed, the cigarette hanging off his lips

Toji clicked his tongue as he leaned back on his chair, "Damn if only we could experiment it on someone and record everything down", his deep voice sent a shiver down your spine

"I could always get a hook-up to try it out~", Gojo muttered with a smirk, "I don't mind"

"You fools", Sukuna scorned, "A hook-up won't give accurate data- her fucking brain will just be mushy, ask any questions-", he rolled his eyes, "her replies will just be fucking moans"

"Don't any of you have a girlfriend or somethin'?", Toji groaned as he grabbed his beer bottle, drowning it down, "You can get her and we can experiment"

"Nah- I asked my ex once she nearly threw a god-damn vase at my face", chuckling Gojo scrolled through his phone

"Ah, shit-"

With a groan, they collectively sighed. The atmosphere in the room was tense- after all, they were your superiors, you were just a mere girl from the PR department

"um- excuse me", clenching the papers tight you looked at them all, "T-The documents have an error-", you tried to keep your voice stable

"Oh shut up woman", Sukuna glared as he walked towards you, "Can't you read the room? or are you senseless?"

"Huh-?", rage-filled your veins, you were already annoyed with overwork- been working so hard not to let it get to you but this- this was the last straw.

"You are the senseless one!", you snapped back, "You assholes can't even design a vibrator properly! Look at you discussing this shit!", you scorned and shoved the paper on Sukunas face as you glared at the others

"What did you just say you fucking bitch-", Sukuna grabbed your jaw pinning you against the wall

"You deaf?", glaring into his eyes you scoffed, "I said you assholes cannot even design a fucking vibrator"

"Yo, calm down", Gojo yelled as he made his way towards you and Sukuna

"Fuck off-", his grip on you tightened choking you

"What a pain in the ass", Toji grabbed Sukuna with Suguru and pulled him back

"Tch", groaning he let go of you while Gojo picked up the fallen papers

"You alright?", Sugurus eyes locked with yours- something about his cold black eyes- gave you goosebumps all over your skin

"Y-Yeah" Gasping for air you coughed as you looked at Sukuna who was starting to calm down more

"You said we can't design a vibrator, right?" Toji smirked with a dangerous glint in his eyes

"Y-Yeah..", You backed away afraid. Something about his expression makes you instinctively back away as if your body subconsciously tried to protect itself

"Why not be our test subject? we lacked one anyways~", with a sneer he leaned in. The atmosphere in the room changed as all eyes were on you.

"Your fool brain finally came up with a good idea", grinning Sukuna fixed his blazer, "What do you say woman? or are you too scared?"

"W-What!? no way never!", you immediately shook your head shaking it crazily

"Awwww come on~ it'll be fun I promise!", Gojo nudged you wrapping his arm around your shoulder

"No way!", slapping his hand away you glared

"See you said we can't design good vibrators", putting out the cigarette in his mouth Suguru shrugged, "Have you ever even used one of our vibrators to know if it's bad? ever cummed dripping wet?"

You blushed hard, "W-what explicit nonsense are you even saying!?", shoving the papers on his face you scowled

"Oh~ is someone scared?" smugly Sukuna leaned in and whispered near your ears, his hot breath sending shivers down your spine

"N-No I'm not! It's just a vibrator!", shoving him away you tried to push the men away

"Great!", standing behind you Gojo wrapped his arms around your waist pulling you close, "I'll even let you try out my new designs baby~"

"Hey! Bun-head, grab the newest vibrators and bring them here", Sukuna yelled, "We found a pussy to try it on!" he chuckled deviously

"What-!?" before you could say anything Toji cut you off, "Bring some lube too, I just know she's tight as fuck", smirking he looked into your eyes

"Alright, alright- I'll even bring a camera to record it. Need the data", with this- Suguru went to get all the items whistling

All while you stood stunned- how did you even end up like this? How did a small comeback develop to- well- this?!

"You did it to yourself, baby girl, ~ if only you hadn't opened that darn mouth of yours", with a chuckle Gojo whispered near your ears

"oh well, I'll look after you well~"

x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x

"Is the Pussy visible?" Gojo leaned in as he looked at the screen of the camera

"Yeah, just gotta zoom in more", Suguru adjusted the camera, the RBG ratio, etc as he zoomed in

With your legs spread apart on Sukunas desk- your panties are removed as your cunt's all visible in the camera. Rather than an office it looked like a porn production set.

"Hm…she's tight", Toji looked at your cunt, "I wonder when's the last time she got fucked", Sukuna muttered

"Shut up!? what the fuck do you think you are even saying-", embarrassed you looked at both of them annoyed, "Just by looking at my- my pussy you think you can say such things?"

"Doll, I have seen enough to know what pussy has not been fucked and how well it was fucked", chuckling Sukuna smirked

Hearing Sukuna's comment Toji, Gojo and Suguru snickered

"Damn right", smiling smugly Suguru stood up and walked towards you

"You-", too stunned to speak you just lower your head, "How can they say such things!?" you think as you take a sharp breath blushing; almost embarrassed with the explicitness but it was low-key hot.

You hated to admit it but you were aroused as fuck. The cool air brushed against your cunt making the walls quiver, 4 hot guys gazing at you as they discuss what's the best way to record your pussy holding vibrators in the office. It made you get even more wet with your cunt oozing out and dripping, making a mess on Sukuna's desk.

"Look she's already dripping and making a mess how cute~ how needy", Gojo chuckled

"Well can't leave her like this can we?" with a smirk rolling up his sleeves Sukuna started circling his fingers around your clitoris- flicking it a bit making you gasp

"W-wait!" trying to stabilize yourself at the sudden wave of pleasure you try to focus elsewhere, your hands and body trembled at the way he abused your clitoris

"Where's your mind goin'?" Toji cups your breasts and starts kneading them, pinching and flicking the nipples making you squirm and moan

"T-Toji wait ah-" your eyes widen as your feel Sukunas fingers do deeper stretching you out ruthlessly, "She's tight- Fuck", he gritted his teeth

Tossing your head back you try to cover your mouth but it was instantly pulled away by Toji, "Can't have you cover your mouth now can we sweetheart?", smugly he pulled your shirt up and tied your hands with it

"Nice boobs you got here", Gojo brushed his hand against your breasts, fondling them, "I wonder how hard the nipples can get heh~", smirking he brought his lips closer to your nipples and started sucking on them making you moan even louder, "Gojo- ah! 'tis too much wait-!" earning only a chuckle from him as he sucked even harder biting it

"The Vibrator No 1 is ready~ let's see how well you take it darling", smirking Suguru stood beside Sukuna- turning the vibrator on and putting it down on your cunt grinding it, the movements so good you felt you were on cloud 9; while Sukuna continued to move his fingers deeper stretching you out.

"Smile for the camera doll", smirking Sukuna slapped your pussy which stinged a bit but also made you so fucking wet it was embarrassing

The intense stimulation from the vibrator immediately made you arch your back, toss your head back and let out the loudest moans you could muster, it was stimulating- too stimulating.

It was too much- your poor pussy could not stand so much abuse. It was all puffy, sobbing wet, begging for mercy as it dripped and oozed pre-cum. Tears stained your cheeks as you whined and moaned

Your breasts were off even worse, the biting and sucking of Gojo had swollen your nipples so much. The bite marks covering your breasts stung but also gave you so much pleasure wanting more

"Fuck- who knew we had such a natural cam-girl?", licking his lips Toji just watched your expressions hungrily wanting to devour you

"I know right? Should have fucked her and filled her up first", chuckling Suguru increased the intensity of the vibrator to it's highest limit making you gasp and moan, squirm all at once, "Let's see how loud she can scream eh?"

"Oh my God! it's too much ah-" tossing your head back you squeezed your thighs shut as your eyes rolled back and you climaxed instantly because of the intensity

"Stay still, how bratty", slapping your thighs Sukuna spread your legs open forcefully holding them down, his fingers covered in your release, "Heh- who said the vibrator was bad huh? look at the amount of cum", smirking he licked it off his fingers making you blush harder and be even wetter.

"D-Don't-!" you frantically tried to wipe your cum off his fingers too bad Toji held your arms down all tied up

"I wanna taste some too~", licking his lips smugly Gojo with a quick movement shoved his fingers inside your cunt and licked it

"How sweet I can eat her out forever~ Try some Suguru"

"Oh don't mind if I do~"

Seeing them taste your cum from their fingers made you almost lose your mind and your brain felt mushy. The camera still recording everything that they were doing to you. It was so crazy

"Hah- finally stretched out, what a good fucking pussy", Sukuna smirked satisfied

"We can finally put the vibrator in~ shall we put two?", Gojo chuckled as he gazed at your cunt

"I think she can take it~" smugly Toji looked you in the eyes, "She's such a good girl after all. Aren't you baby?"

"Well" with a sneer Suguru finally put the vibrator inside you with the highest intensity, "Let's see what she can do, go at it girl show what you got~"

Hungrily they all gazed at you, their eyes those of starving wolves who wanted to completely devour you, fill you up- breed you so fucking well like the way you deserve. You had no idea what a raging boner they had seeing you and your cunt.

"Oh my god- ah- hah~", moaning you squirm as the vibrator continued to hit all the right spots- making your whole body-shake, your walls clenching so tight- holding on for dear life; "Fuck it's so good!", biting your lips you closed your eyes as you felt your brain going numb.

It felt like it was designed specifically for you, the way it hit your G-spot was driving you mad. It kept pushing you over the edge again and again.

"Shit", biting his lips Sukuna approached you, his hard-on evident, bulging fully, so big it made you wonder if it would even fit.

"Moaning like a whore just from a mere vibrator", unbuckling his pants he removed the vibrator making you sequel and whimper

"Guy's let's give her the best fuck of her life shall we?", smirking he positioned himself to your entrance and slammed in without warning, doing deep, hard and fast thrusts- hitting your G-spot again and again

"Fuck, so good, shit how was I missing out on such good pussy"

The vibrator already broke your brain in the beginning and now feeling Sukuna fuck you, so big- so hard- filling you up so well drove you even more over the edge. Your throat had gone dry from all the moaning

Toji, Gojo and Suguru also unable to keep their hand to themselves any longer; unbuckled their belts with their hard on started jerking off standing beside you, letting out grunts and moans imagining fucking you. Making you suck on their dicks like the good girl you were.

Seeing how big they all were you wondered how your poor cunt will ever be able to take them all inside.

Your vision was going white with all the pleasure as you clenched around Sukuna's dick, squeezing him so tight he tossed his head back pussy drunk just wanting to feel you all around him.

You don't know many hours went by all you know is they all took their turns fucking you- in all positions, filling you up with their cum; praising you and telling how much of a good girl you are, how well you are taking them.

You were fully- completely knocked out and brain fucked. The office fully messy from the desk to the couch and all vibrators gone.

x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x

The next moment you wake up, sharp pain shoots up and down your body as you groan.

"Oh look who woke up, our cam-girl", chucking Toji sat beside you while the others crowded around you

That's when everything hit you all at once and you look down finding yourself completely and utterly naked.

"You took us all in so well baby~ my dicks never been more satisfied", Gojo lifted you making you sit on his lap and kissed your neck

"S-Shut up! I need to go!" you blushed hard and tried to stand up but tripped

"What a brat, you really think you can stand? how annoying, you were better brain fucked", Sukuna immediately grabs you supporting you to not fall

"You!-" feeling your blood boil you immediately try to open your mouth to yell all kinds of profanities

"Oh she's awake", Suguru entered the room smirking, "Still naked is she? are we going for another round? Because I am down"

"I'll die if we do another round!?" in panic you look at them all in the eyes earning a chuckle and a light slap on your ass from Sukuna making you whine

"Shut up you aren't going anywhere from today onwards you are our girl"

"Huh!?", you gasp in shock

"Everything we did is recorded", Gojo chuckled grinning, "Suguru even finished processing it darling~ thank you for your-", he tossed a vibrator to you and winked, "lovely data"

You stand utterly stunned knowing there is no way out from this, they'll eat you alive whenever they please. You are officially the company's cam-girl and test-subject.

Congrats on your promotion~ <3

My Masterlist!

[gutsby]

Mouthful

Pairing: dbf!Joel x Reader

Summary: Joel Miller thinks he’s strong enough to quit it, but something in the way you suck him says he isn’t.

Warnings: 18+. A man with a big, bad oral fixation + lots of love for a sneaky succ. Daddy kink. Dirty talk. Age gap. Blowing Joel under the table at dad’s birthday dinner.

Snippet of Hating Game

He knows better than to let a moan slip at a time like this. Not when he’s sitting at the dinner table; not when he’s surrounded by the people he knows and loves the most. Not when he’s celebrating his best friend’s 51st birthday, and certainly not when that man’s daughter is perched between his thighs, out of sight from every eye but his.

Joel lifts the tablecloth. He almost unloads on the spot.

Seeing your mouth open wide and your lips curled tight around his hot, throbbing member, Joel can’t help but ache for a split-second lapse of judgment—one where he forgets all sense of decorum and simply goes to town on that pretty little face. But, as it is, the rest of the party is totally oblivious to your absence, and he doesn’t want to draw attention to it, or him, by roughfucking your mouth.

That’ll come later.

No, now he’ll let you glide your mouth gently over his shaft, leaving trails of thick spit and hints of a shiny pink lip gloss in its wake. He’ll let you bob your head softly—self-assured in a pace you get to set—and he won’t lay a finger on your face or let a thrust of his get in the way, because this was all about you giving him the pleasure.

That doesn’t mean he can’t steal a glimpse every now and then and pin you with an expectant look when he wants something done a certain way. The room is dimly lit and everyone in it drunk; Joel will gladly take the risk.

‘You can go deeper than that, sweet pea.’

‘Nope, three-fourths ain’t enough, I need your mouth around me whole.’

‘You did wanna make daddy feel good, didn’t ya, sugar?’

He doesn’t have to speak a word of it for you to know what he means. What he needs. You loosen your jaw and stretch your lips even wider, whining just a little when the head of his cock grazes your tonsils.

“Fuck that feels nice,” Joel says aloud.

You freeze.

Then, without missing a beat, you hear him continue just as comfortably, speaking to the people around him,

“Y’all feel that breeze comin’ in?”

Sick fuck. You continue to suck him anyway.

One hand braces tight against Joel’s leg and the other flits shamelessly between your own, and you try not to moan, but the sound escapes anyway. No one hears it, but Joel feels it reverberate down his shaft, and he grips his glass of Merlot like a vice. Your dad shoots him a curious look from across the table but says nothing.

“Can’t get enough’a her, huh?” Tommy grins beside him.

“What?” Joel falters. Sets his drink aside carefully.

Down below, you drag your mouth just far enough to take his tip between your lips and suckle. Joel grunts.

“The wine,” Tommy says, still smiling, “You must love it.”

Joel lets out another strangled breath that he tries to pass off as a chuckle and nods.

“Got me on my fuckin’ knees,” he admits.

And that’s the truth. Starved for air and blinking through tears as you kneel down to blow him, it’s still you with the chokehold on Joel, and both of you know it.

Try as you might to convince yourselves otherwise, the man is enrapt. It’s just that small matter of you being his best friend’s daughter that makes Joel loath to admit it. At any rate, he has your tongue licking stripes up his cock and feels a sudden, sharp clench in his stomach.

He knows he won’t last much longer. Neither will you.

Joel can’t see it now, but you’ve practically soaked your own hand from how hard you’ve been rubbing your clit—and how turned on you are from just sucking his dick, keeping your mouth wide open for a fucking whenever he wants it. While Joel reaches for another draught of wine, you bring one hand to his balls and keep the other at your cunt, triple-tasking like the efficient little slut he needs you to be: sucking, cupping, and rubbing all at once to get the two of you off in one minute or less.

You guide him down to the furthest place in your throat, then push him even deeper. You gag, just slightly, and feel a hand reach down for your cheek. A thumb starts to rub at the tears welled up at the corners of your eyes.

‘Sweet thing hasn’t felt a man this deep before, huh? Wanna swallow some more?’

You nod that you do. Can’t actually hear him now, or see much else besides the soft tufts of hair on his belly, but you can feel a light, heady warmth seep into your brain.

You rut your hips and hope no one drops a fork nearby. Buck desperately into your hand and feel the heat start to swell to a whole new feeling, and suddenly you’re whimpering, whining on Joel’s cock from under the shade of the table and cumming all over your fingers.

Joel returns a quick smile from your father and cracks a joke about the Super Bowl. Raises his hips just the slightest bit and wipes one of your tear-soaked cheeks.

‘Almost there, hon, keep that throat open for daddy.’

All you can do is cry and try your best. Wild feelings from both the slow, deep facefuck he’s giving you and the flurry of euphoric aftershocks coursing all throughout your body make it almost impossible to bear, but you obey your sweet and strong and steady-handed Joel and sense a blossoming desire crop up for something else.

You want to taste him as he blows his load in your mouth, floods your tongue with his spend, and paints every inch of your insides with that hot, sticky stuff.

You need him whole

Your Joel.

In tune with your thoughts—or perhaps just overcome with a need to see you before he reaches his peak—Joel raises the tablecloth when Tommy isn’t looking. His gaze locks on yours and his tongue darts quick between his lips. He cocks a brow. Brushes his thumb up again.

‘Ya want this, darlin’? Want all of me?’

You give one soft, wide-eyed nod, and that’s all he needs.

No sooner do you give him the green light than his cum goes pulsing out in ropes, coating your whole throat and eventually your mouth as you hold still and take it all.

There’s so much more than you thought. So much of Joel that’s been waiting to giving your mouth a proper fucking glaze that once he’s started he just can’t stop. Above the table, your dad shoots a pointed look in his direction—‘You good, man?’—and it takes every ounce of strength in Joel’s body to grit his teeth tight and nod.

He’s filled so much of your mouth it’s spilling out now.

You try to hold steady, keep your movements extra slow. You’d heard your dad’s voice and just know there’d be a lot more on the line than Joel’s dribbling seed if either one of you fuck up now. Your breath catches in your chest, and you feel too afraid to even swallow.

“I just…came,” Joel starts, and your head almost cracks on the wood surface from how abruptly you flinch back,

“—to the realization. That you are so…fuckin’ old, man.”

Your father’s laugh is the first thing you hear, followed by Tommy, your friends, and a dozen other party guests.

The next thing you feel, to your complete and utter shock, is Joel’s cock brushing your cheek. Then your lips. Then your tongue. He slides his still-hard member through the ‘o’ your mouth has made in awe and starts to move in gentle motions back and forth, like a man all but desperate to get a feel for your wet, sodden walls.

A man who can’t risk a glimpse at you now, but wants more than anything to see the mouth he’s just filled.

Your father’s words haven’t even cooled in the air.

Joel Miller, you sneaky, freaky fuck.

As the laughter subsides and Tommy scoots back in his chair, taking leave of your table, you feel a spark ignite. Whether it’s yours or Joel’s or both your perverted minds suddenly alight and insane, you can’t be sure, but you can make out a tablecloth flipping back up above you.

Joel slips his dick out of your mouth and grins. Takes a firm hold of your face under the table so his fingers are practically coaxing your jaw to unhinge before him.

It’s the lowest, slowest, menacing sort of sound you’d ever heard from him before, but it was his all the same.

Speaking to you now, softly, “Show daddy, darlin’.”

Your Joel.

[chewnotchoke]

like no one else can

ೃ࿐ boynextdoor as your situationship

this was fun to write,,i was wondering if i should make individual fics abt this...what do yall think? ^__^ feedbacks and comments are appreciated ! and also my ask is always open if u wnna chitty chat <3

warnings: fluff, intense pining, light angst, signs of red flags

wc per member: ~250-400

sungho

“i’m trying to understand what am i to you?”

𓍯 situationship with sungho would be filled with a lot of "almosts" that keep you guessing, excitement, and unexpected outcomes. he would have this easygoing, carefree attitude as if he truly enjoyed your time together, but he’s also hard to pin down. he would bring you as his ‘plus one’ to parties or events and he has once invited you to a family outing “as a friend”

𓍯 sungho likes to do actions that you couldn’t help but assign meanings to these little things. he would give you a bite of his food in between laughter and throw tiny comments such as “i thought about you the other day.” the way he laughs at your jokes, recalls small details you mention, and checks up on you in between classes makes you question if he does the same with other people. if you didn't witness him opening doors for people, helping classmates with their homework, and giving the same endearing smile to anyone in need, it would be quite easy to convince yourself that the things he did to you meant something.

𓍯 when you mention being cold, he casually throws his hoodie over your shoulders and says, "just give it back whenever." yet it stays with you for days and he doesn't bring it up either, as if sharing his hoodie has become a relationship between you two. but when you decide to give it back, your heart aches to see another girl wearing his hoodie.

𓍯 the combination of highs and unanswered questions would be thrilling, and his charm would entice you to return for more. but the question “what am i to you” hangs in the open air because then, if you really meant something to him, he wouldn’t have treated others the same way he did to you.

𓍯 was it mutual at some point? maybe, or maybe not.

riwoo

“i know it’s casual but i look for you in a room full of people”

𓍯 likes having alone time with you. plans a hang out with your friends to watch a movie but the truth is he didn't invite anyone else just so he could watch the movie and spend time alone together. at the end of the movie, you'd just be wiping off your lips because you spent the whole time making out.

𓍯 situationship with riwoo is almost like a secret. he knows how to pull you towards him, and the relationship has you on chokehold. most of the time, he makes moves that make you question the very foundation of your relationship. he acts like he likes you. but does he actually do?

𓍯 during a chill drinking celebration at your friends' house, both of you always find a reason to text each other even if you're literally in the same room. that one time when you were seated a little too far from him, he pulls out his phone, typing under the table making sure no one gets a peak of his message, he would send you, "you're too far from me :(" it seems as though the thread that binds you is stronger than everything else, and every communication feels like a secret that only the two of you know. you'd look up from your phone to give him a glance and he gives you a subtle look—the look that even when you try to look away, you could feel his eyes settled on you.

𓍯 his red flag would probably be saying things like, "would you be jealous if i went out with someone else?" or talking about his ex. but right when he gives you enough reasons that he's not good for you, he pulls the "what would it take for us to stop pretending this isn’t more than casual?" card.

jaehyun

“you say we’re just friends but why do you look at me like that when no one’s around?”

𓍯 when you clearly don’t look like you’re just friends but it’s becoming a running joke now–jaehyun responds without skipping a beat whenever someone arches an eyebrow and asks if there is more going on between you and him. he casually replies, “we’re just friends.” and each time you force a smile that falls short of your eyes, you nod along.

𓍯 jaehyun has this habit of leaning towards you whenever he laughs, sometimes his head falls on your shoulder for a moment which kinda makes you flinch during the first few times but now that you’re used to it, you let your heads touch each other when you laugh together.

𓍯 when he spots you alone leaning outside the glass door at a party, you feel his presence slowly approaching you and then he simply stands there in comforting silence, staring at you in that familiar way, without saying anything at first. when you told him that you get more comfortable attending parties because he’s around, he’d flash a smirk, and his eyes return to the expression he always gives you when no one else is there. jaehyun looks intensely at your face as if he’s searching for something–searching for a sign.

𓍯 you can’t resist yourself to ask him a question if he’s sure about it. “sure about what?” his tone is gentle, and the corner of his mouth twitches as if he clearly understands what you are saying. “sure that we’re just friends…” you replied. jaehyun pauses before responding. he just looks at you, his eyes darting to your lips and back to your eyes, a spark there that he tries to conceal but can't quite get rid of. he lets out a tense and nervous laugh. “yeah, we’re just friends.” but his words were laced with hesitation and uncertainty. and there you thought, maybe the look he gives you is enough, for now.

taesan

“you treat me like this because you know you're my weakness.”

𓍯 taesan knows how flustered you get when he touches you. during lunchtime with your other friends, you tried to ignore how he sat closer to you than usual. when your friends make a joke and others laugh along, you try so hard to focus but you just can’t seem to grasp the fact that his knees and yours were touching. then, his fingertips lightly touched your leg, so gentle at first that you nearly questioned whether it was an accident. however, taesan’s hand becomes steady and warm, and you can only sense his calm presence. you attempt to maintain a neutral appearance on the outside as your heart twitches and your mind attempts to process the unexpected sensation. his smile is as laid-back as ever, and he continues to laugh with the group as if this is nothing unusual.

𓍯 situationship with taesan can be a little frustrating. he likes to give you mixed signals. he’s mostly all about you most of the time and he holds eye contact like you’re the only person he could see. but then the next day, he barely acknowledges your presence. he’s quiet and doesn’t speak to you. but you know what’s bad for you? the fact that you'd fold immediately bcs he really just knows how to give you butterflies right when you think he’s not interested. taesan would come up behind you, whispering to your ear saying, “i missed you today.” and you would quickly fold like you didn't just question everything about him.

𓍯 at some point, the feelings were mutual. but you got tired of going around in circles waiting for nothing to happen, so you just decided to move on and bury your feelings just to keep the friendship.

leehan

“teach me how to not care about these feelings that keep me up at night for nothing.”

𓍯 you don’t talk everyday but that’s what makes everything thrilling. and when you do talk, texting usually lasts until 3am. although you can feel the weight of your eyelids by this time, you try to stay awake just to converse with him. conversations with leehan are almost raw, something about each message is intimate—one you probably wouldn’t hear in the daylight. the thought that he actually also stays up with you makes you wonder how much he’s also feeling.

𓍯 leehan has the subtlest way of making you laugh. he’s nonchalant but he’s the type to make you intrigued without fully committing. with that being said, he knows when to pull back when he thinks you’re getting a little too attached over a situationship even if he's the one responsible for making you feel that way

𓍯 after dates, goodbyes often linger in the air. both of you enjoyed too much to actually walk away and go back home. when he stands close enough to hug you, you could feel his hand linger on your back like he’s in no rush to go back home. both of you stood there quiet, glancing at each other, enough to decipher by the look of your eyes that there are still unsaid words. “i’ll text you when i get back home.” he holds both of your hands as they slightly brush away from yours whenever he takes a step back. you know yourself you want something more from this situationship which causes your heart to ache.

𓍯 leehan is still not letting go of your hand even at the point where your fingertips are only touching each other. “let’s do that next time.” he says and adds, “sleep over.”

𓍯 and when he actually gets back home, you don't receive a text from him at all, and talked again the following days like nothing happened.

woonhak

"why does it feel like we’re both waiting for the other to make the first move?"

𓍯 it’s painfully obvious that both of you like each other. neither of you just couldn’t bring yourself up to confess. there’s always this tension that hangs heavy in the air when you’re with him. you're lounging on his couch while watching a film. with his shoulder almost touching yours, he is closer than friends should be. the couch's modest size is a flimsy excuse, but you both know there's more to it. woonhak’s arm occasionally moves, grazing yours and giving you a shiver, but he doesn't pull away. both of you are dancing around that invisible line, on the brink. his hand is getting closer and closer till your fingers would touch if you both moved even a little.

𓍯 every time you're together, you experience this torturous pulling, waiting for the other to finally release the tension that has been building for weeks. his hand moves next to yours, his fingers flexing as though he wants to grab you but isn't quite brave enough. and you can't help but wonder whether you're both simply waiting for a sign, anything that would eventually allow one of you to cross that line.

𓍯 woonhak constantly teases you, looking for excuses to rub your hair or bump into your shoulder, and he enjoys seeing how you respond to his pranks. he says something, though, that takes you entirely by surprise just when you think it's all a friendly act.

𓍯 “i feel like we’re both good at being complicated.” he chuckles. you can sense that you're both still holding back and skirting the truth because you're afraid of altering something that feels so near-perfect. but when you meet his eyes, you can see that this isn't the end of it because of the little warmth that remains in his smile.

[gay-dorito-dust]

AUTHOR PLSS SHARE ANY VIKTOR RELATIONSHIP HEADCANONS YOU HAVE especially pining 👀 UR WRITING IS DELICIOUSS 🙏🙏

The pinning period was…painful to say the least but funny enough when looked back upon because neither of you had an ounce of subtlety in your bodies, especially not when it came to hiding the fact that you both liked each other; which only came off as more obvious to the people who know you well enough to understand what was going on.

You admired Viktor for his intelligent. His ambitions to better the lives of those of unfortunate origins by striving in finding ways to extending their expectancy, treating them of their ailments and more, all the while you found yourself lost in his soft voice and the way his amber eyes shone like whiskey in a pristine shot glass beneath a warm light.

He was beautiful in every sense of the word to you and you wanted nothing more then to show you just how beautiful he was in your eyes, but of course like anyone else rejection wasn’t exactly something you’d wish to experience from someone you respected and adored.

So you decided that longing stares of adoration and tearing would be the safest route possible for you, after all you wouldn’t get hurt and you weren’t expected to confess either! Win-win situation….except It wasn’t and your heart aches every time he walked by you, greeting you with the sweetest smile and followed by an even sweeter ‘hello’ as his hand brushes against your hand.

Needless to say You were fucking dying on the inside from not saying anything but you didn’t want to ruin what you had just because you felt just a little bit more than a friend. The pain of never telling Viktor how you felt was somehow even worse then any other pain you’ve experienced before, it felt as though your heart was trying to escape from your chest to join its other half in Viktor’s chest. You hated it but at least it remained you that those feelings were real, that they existed and weren’t a figment of your imagination.

Now on the other side Viktor was facing a similar situation to yourself as he drags his hands down his face when the realisation struck. He had an inkling that he felt romantic feelings for you but he tended to push it away because he didn’t feel as though you two would look well matched when put together in his minds eye, he felt as though you deserved someone who didn’t spend most of his time in the laboratory, occasionally sleeping there when he was deeply invested in his project and ignoring his bodily needs for food and breaks.

However he couldn’t ignore the matters of his heart no matter how hard he tries to, but soon Viktor finds that his head was just as consumed by you as his heart was, which proved to make productivity in his project a lot harder to complete. He couldn’t blame you nor did he want to even when he finds himself looking out a window like a love sick pup, only to spot you walking the grounds lost in your own mind all the while possessing the freedom of an uncaged bird.

You were beautiful, sweet and a lovely soul and Viktor didn’t feel as if it was his place to be by your side as he watched you walked back into the building and out of sight. He leans back against his chair and places his hand against his chest and feeling his heart beating against his palm, begging him to say something, anything to you in hopes of easing this pain of infatuation; all the while his head told him that while a love like yours would be sweet to experience he didn’t know the possibilities of a love as pure as that could exist long term.

Despite the fear of rejection and uncertainty of how long your relationship were to stand the test of time you and Viktor spent a lot of time together regardless, even if it was mostly in silence sometimes, which didn’t make matters better for either of you in regards to your feelings towards one another but make them stronger and even more of a hassle to ignore. However it didn’t matter in the moment as the moments you spend together were peaceful, warm and just felt right as though this was where you’re meant to be this entire time, it was soothing and neither you nor Viktor wanted to end.

but unfortunately sleep was a detractor that threatened to pull you both apart by the end of the day.

Did you accidentally fall asleep on his shoulder once in the library? Yes, yes you did and what did Viktor do? He smiled softly at you as he admired you before he found himself falling fast asleep with him resting his was atop of your own. The position wasn’t comfortable in the slightest nor did wonders for your necks, but it was a memory that Viktor would look back on fondly when he felt a little cold and lonely at night to warm his heart.

Sweet, tender moments like these often happened between the two of you that included you getting him breakfast in the morning so that he wouldn’t starve, all so you could see the look of gratitude upon his face as he pats you on the arm.

‘Thank you my dorogaya.’ He says with a gentle smile and you swore you felt your face heat up ten times more than normal.

(Dorogaya is -according to internet, so I trust it extremely loosely, a Russian term of endearment meaning dear)

‘That’s okay Viktor, I’m just making sure you don’t end up falling asleep here…again.’ You said with a smile. ‘Now I better see you eat some food and not just drink the coffee, much like you did the last time.’ You added as you looked at Viktor with a raise brow as he rubbed the back of his head sheepishly.

Even when being scolded he was the absolute cutest. You thought to yourself as you impulsively kissed his cheek, wishing him a good rest of his day, before leaving the laboratory where the real autism of what you had just did hit you just as the door shut behind you.

Welp so much for keeping your hidden feelings secret. Sure it was on impulse but it didn’t matter now as a month later you’re in a solid relationship with Viktor.

Let’s move onto the actual relationship things!

First of all you kiss each other’s cheek and or forehead in greeting in the morning almost. It was simple little act, but it was enough to start your day despite how early it was for either of you and give you a little pick me up to start the day.

‘Good morning my dorodaya.’ Viktor says softly as he pecks your cheek.

‘Good morning my love.’ You reply, kissing him softly on the cheek before kissing his other cheek just because you could, making him smile at you as his cheeks became warm from your sweet affection. He still was very not use to you being so openly affectionate to him, meanwhile he’d much prefer to keep most affection in private. Though this didn’t mean Viktor wasn’t above running a hand down your arm or linking his pinky with yours before bravely intertwining your fingers together so that your palms were pressed against one another’s.

These touches were reminders of the fact that this was real, that this wasn’t a dream that you’ll inevitably wake up from unfairly.

You still keep getting Viktor food and coffee as usual but this time you stay to eat along side him until you’re needed elsewhere, for you don’t want to be anywhere else but besides your beautiful and intelligent Viktor.

Meanwhile poor Viktor knew he was going to get teased to hell and back for hiding the fact that he had a partner, but he didn’t mind it if it meant he could spend a little time with you seeing as you both had really busy schedules, which meant there wasn’t much time you could spend together that wasn’t before you went to sleep or just as you were both waking up.

You even give him soft hugs and words such as ‘you okay honey?’ ‘Everything going smoothly over here’ or ‘please eat enough my love and make sure you take breaks or else I’ll drag you outside myself to get some fresh air.’ Viktor couldn’t help but smile at your lighthearted threat and lean himself back into to smirk at you playfully.

‘Is that a promise my muse?’ He asks innocently.

You kiss his forehead. ‘It’s a promise I intend to make good on.’ You replied, squeezing his shoulders. ‘Love you my beloved, have a good day and don’t overdo yourself.’ You added, wanting Viktor to be nothing but of acceptable health as finding him sleeping in the lab with bad posture made you wince.

‘As long as you take care of yourself my dorodaya.’ Viktor said seriously as he squeezed your hand before prying it open to put something in it and then closing your hand once more.

You knew instantly he made you something with his own two hands, you had a box filled with trinkets and other memorabilia that Viktor had made with you in mind, whether he was aware of it or not but you treasured each and every one as though they were priceless items you could never depart with.

You even left notes of affirmations and encouragement for Viktor, followed by small silly doodles somewhere you could to let him know that there was someone on his side and to always be in his corner while he continues his pursuits as a scientist. Words and cute doodles which were highly appreciated by Viktor as he too kept a box filled with all the notes you’ve ever given him since your relationship began.

Your dates were mainly indoors but neither of you were complaining as all you needed was each other as you cuddled up close and enjoyed listening to the other breath before slipping into a comfortable slumber, buried underneath a bundle of comfy and soft blankets.

[shy-writer-999]

Summary: Ace’s fingers are sturdy, thick, rough, and dazzlingly accessible. When he realizes how you feel about them, will he ever let you live it down? ~1.9k words.

CW: SMUT! Afab reader, gendered pet names (“princess”), body worship, fingering, and praise.

MINORS DNI. NSFW CONTENT.

Ace caught you staring at his hand one day when the two of you were killing time on deck.

“What’s wrong sweetheart? What are you looking at?” He picked up the hand in question and brought it to his face, inspecting for whatever it could be that made your eyes stick there. Maybe a bug?

“Nothing’s wrong. I was just... looking.” Your blushed and immediately averted your eyes. He quickly realized that you were admiring his hands.

“Oh?” That classic, cheeky grin crept over his lips. “You like what you see?”

“Shut up.” You were crimson now. Was it that easy to read you?

“What? C’mon.” Ace poked you playfully in the side.

“Nothing. Your hands are nice. That’s all.” You tried to dismiss his wheedling curiosity, but Ace’s cocky grin got cockier.

“Oooh. I see. What about ‘em?”

“God, are you really going to make me say it?” You rolled your eyes and he nodded. He loved it when you complimented him, and he was shameless about it. “They’re nice, Ace. That’s all.”

“What about my fingers?” He tilted his head, and his expression was cocky and knowing, but still sweet.

Your mouth went dry. His ability to read you was uncanny and, honestly, a bit concerning. Your eyes darted down to the alluring fingers in question. Sturdy, gorgeous, long, veiny… fuck.

His gaze tracked yours and he could tell exactly what you were thinking.

You tried to answer like you were unbothered by the teasing, like you weren’t flustered, but you failed. “Your fingers are nice, too. Now can we drop the subject? Please, Ace.”

Ace laughed and didn’t say anything more about it. He knew you were shy about this sort of stuff in front of other people. You still flushed with embarrassment, unsure how much of that interaction was overheard by the crew, given that multiple people were within a ten-foot radius… but Marco definitely heard, because he snickered. He was going to be annoying about it later, you could already tell.

Ace loved to tease you. He thought it was endearing and darling whenever you got flustered—it was just too easy to make you blush, and you looked too good blushing to hold back.

Later that night, you were sitting around a table with a sizable group for dinner. Ace sat across from you, flashing his warm, dark eyes and knocking his thigh against yours under the table. “C’mon, pretty. Let’s go.”

You rose from the table and followed Ace to his cabin, like you usually did after you finished your evening meal. You could tell that he was ready and roaring to go because he was barely trying to conceal his erection when he got up from the table. It escaped everyone else’s attention, although he certainly wasn’t being sly about it.

Ace led you down the hallway by your hand. When you finally got to his cabin, he closed and locked the door, then pinned you to the wall and showered you in kisses. His lips were eager and passionate, hands roaming every part of your body they could access.

“Now what did you like about my hands and fingers earlier, baby?” He pulled away and held his face centimeters away from yours. “I’m curious. Please?”

“Fuck, Ace. They’re just nice and big.” You squeaked out the last couple words because his hands squeezed your ass roughly.

“Oh yeah?” Ace smiled and his nose scrunched up. Those freckles could melt your heart even when you were in the worst (or most bashful) of moods. “Why didn’t you say that earlier, pumpkin?”

“Embarrassed,” you let out a whimper as one of his hands squeezed one of your breasts so hard it hurt.

“No need to be embarrassed, beautiful. Now let’s get these off.”

Ace helped you out of your clothes until you were standing in front of him naked. He was fully clothed still, and you felt a little self-conscious, but you quickly realized what he was after.

He began to pass his hands from your wrists up to your shoulders, paying close attention to where he touched and how softly. Goosebumps raised on your skin, trailing after his delicate caresses.

Ace felt every inch of you, eyes glued to where his palms met your skin. The admiration was reciprocal—you looked down at where his large veiny hands touched you, and he was entranced by how soft and supple your skin was under his rough, long fingers.

It’s like he was worshipping you. He took his time, going slowly from your shoulders, sliding his fingers up your neck, down your clavicles, spending a few moments feeling your breasts, creeping down your ribs… He worked your whole body sensually, drinking in every inch of your skin, all the way down to your ankles.

You caught yourself holding your breath and had to manually inhale and exhale for a moment. You were too wrapped up in him—the way he was so, so focused, the way his rich, dark hair and freckles shifted as he petted you carefully and slowly.

It was making you aroused, yes, but also you were just in awe of this man who was treating you like something holy and invaluable.

His fingers traced aimlessly for many minutes as he worshipped your skin. When they finally ceased, he had one hand on your cheek.

He swiped the finger pad of his thumb over your bottom lip and gave you a soft kiss. “You really like my fingers that much, sugar?”

You nodded shyly again, and he smiled. “Open up.”

You weren’t sure what he was getting at, but as you opened your mouth, Ace slid his middle and ring finger onto your tongue. Instinctively, you closed your lips around his fingers and started to suck.

He groaned. “Fuck, that’s it.”

His erection was straining against his shorts, pressing onto your naked skin as you sucked his fingers and made eye contact with him. When you increased the suction and made your cheeks hollow, the tent in his shorts twitched.

He gently pulled his fingers out of your mouth and they crept downwards to rest on your core. You were already immensely turned on, sopping wet and throbbing with need.

“What do you want me to do with my fingers, princess?” Ace’s voice was honey-coated, smooth, and dripping with lust.

“Inside, Ace,” you whimpered. “Put them inside.”

“You want me to finger fuck you?” He purred and pressed his already-wet middle and ring fingers into the sticky valley between your thighs, mixing your own saliva with your arousal.

You hummed in affirmation, and he hooked his fingers up through your folds, entering you as you whined quietly.

Ace’s fingers felt thick inside of you. They always felt thick, but it was emphasized by the fact that you’d been dreaming of this particular moment all day. Pressed inside of you, his digits were remarkably stocky, broad, and rough. Ace removed his free hand from where it was still resting on your cheek and brought it down to palm at his cock.

You were starting to ooze slick on his fingers already, gushing as he curled his fingers and explored your aching core.

“Ace, fuck, that feels so good,” you moaned quietly and his cock jumped. He grinded his palm over it harder, letting out his own gasp of pleasure at the sensation.

“Does it, baby?” He cooed, staring down at where his fingers wiggled and disappeared into you. “You like my fingers that much, sweetheart? Why don’t you fuck yourself with ‘em? Find that soft spot of yours and make yourself feel good.”

Ace held still, prompting a desperate sound to escape your lips. Without a second thought, you began to rock back and forth, forcing his fingers deeper inside of you and dragging them back out, angling your hips over them until you pressed his fingertips onto your g-spot. As you rolled onto his fingers greedily and your moans got louder, your thighs started to shake.

“God, you’re hot. Needy little pussy, so tight and wet for me.” Ace’s voice was low and gravelly as he took his cock out of his shorts and started to stroke himself slowly. “Keep going, gorgeous.”

You grinded on his fingertips, pressing on your own hot spot repeatedly until you were arching your back and screwing your eyes shut in pleasure.

“More, Ace, fuck,” you whined. “Need more.”

“Awh, do you?”

Ace’s hand left his leaking cock, and he brought his thumb to draw lazy circles over your clit. Your hips bucked, disrupting the rhythm you had built while got yourself off.

“Falling apart, sweet thing? Tell me what you like about them again. It sounds so pretty coming out of your mouth.”

You almost couldn’t focus enough to talk. Every time his thumb grazed your sensitive bud, your hips jerked forward.

“B-big,” you moaned desperately, and the sound went straight to his cock. “They’re so b-big and—fuck, Ace—so big and rough. Feels good.”

“There we go, angel. Good job using your words. You look so lovely when you’re fucked out like this.”

“Ace, more,” you begged him with lust-crazed eyes. “Want you.”

He obliged, leaning over you with his fingers still inside your cunt and rubbing on your clit. He latched his lips around one of your nipples as you writhed on him. He sucked lightly, swirling his tongue and biting delicately—you were reeling in ecstasy.

“Ace—fuck, I’m close.”

Usually, he made you wait a while to orgasm. He would edge and tease you until you were on the verge of tears. But today he was so worked up that he was going to let you cum right off the bat—it was one step closer to putting his cock in you. He was counting down the seconds.

He curled his fingers again, taking the lead. He started to press on your g-spot rhythmically, indulging you farther by pulsing heat in your cunt with his devil fruit powers. It felt so good that almost started crying in pleasure. It took everything in you not to topple over from your shaking legs and crumple on him.

Ace groaned with satisfaction and want as you squirmed from his touch. Precum seeped over the head of his inflamed cock and dripped in slow rivulets down his length. “Mmmm, keep going. Cum on my fingers. Then I’ll stuff my cock in you. You want that?”

You nodded, and at the same time, Ace started to scissor his fingers curl them faster. “Fuck, Ace, fuck, fuck, ‘m cumming I’m—fuckkkk.”

You hit your breaking point, spasming in euphoric bliss as you came on Ace’s fingers.

“Does it feel good? Look at me.”

You struggled to even open your eyes, and his wrist kept moving. It was almost too much, but you kept riding the blistering wave of your orgasm on his fingertips, drawing your climax out and shaking with every second. “F-feels so good, Ace.”

When he finally pulled his fingers out of you, he sucked them clean and pulled you by your hand to the bed.

“Ok beautiful, c’mere. Let me do all the work.”

😐😐🤒 i need his fingers in me stat or im going to start screaming in the streets and biting people. idk. something drastic 🥴😇 feeling unhinged today! ⸜( *ˊᵕˋ* )⸝

here's my masterlist and here's my posting schedule for october!

i'm posting every day from now until halloween!

finally, trick or treat? (tumblr links)

[messrmoonyy]

- Arthur Morgan hcs ( high honour vs low honour ) 18+

HH!Arthur Morgan x Fem!reader / LH!Arthur Morgan x Fem!Reader

Request- LOVE your writing, can we get a high honor vs low honor Arthur in bed? HAVE A LOVELY DAY :D

A/N- ty to the anon for requesting this, I’m in one of those ruts where I’m struggling to write one shots more than like a few sentences here and there or hating everything and restarting a million times lol. So a HC request was a nice way to get me writing without thinking too hard 😭💀. I will say I have never and could never play low honour. So if it’s inaccurate well… it’s fanfiction. This is basically soft vs rough Arthur lmao

Masterlist

•Low honour•

- He’s a slightly selfish lover. If he comes first then he doesn’t particularly care if you haven’t

- Likes to use his size to his advantage. Hes taller. Heavier. Wider. Likes when he can pin you down and put his weight on you, trapping you in place. Size kink goes crazy

- Which also leads into his love of choking. And hair pulling. He just likes to manhandle you , he likes that he’s so much bigger and can just like… toss you around a bit. He likes knowing he can wrap his hand around your throat and have your literal life in his hands, and you just willingly let him.

- Of course he’s far tougher and rougher. HH!Arthur will spend ages working you up and relaxing you and making you come in the most blissfully world shattering way. LH!Arthur just wants to see how many times he can make you finish before you pass out

- OR. If he’s feeling particularly dickish. He’ll just edge you. For hours. Days. Simply because he thinks it’s funny. And he’s a jerk.

- Prone bone is one of his favs. He can trap you in place, press your face into his pillow and go to town.

- lip biter. Absolutely will tug your bottom lip between his teeth mid make out

- Possessive. Likes leaving hickeys all over you. Especially where others can see them. And he doesn’t like you hiding them either. He wants people to know you’re his

- He’ll praise you but it’s usually pretty degrading too. Like think ‘ who’s my good lil whore, hm? ‘

- Loveeeessssssss You giving him head. Loves it. And will actively ask for it unlike HH!Arthur

- The sloppier the better, roughly fucking himself into your mouth until you gag and choke and urging you to keep going? Yeah he loves that shit. ‘ that’s it. Good girl choke on it ‘ ‘ you can do better than that princess ‘

- DARE I SAY IT. DARE I SAY LH!ARTHUR HAS A GUN KINK. CAUSE- cue my silent war flashbacks to that one Tess gun kink fic I wrote.

- Ass man. Will smack it and grab it every chance he gets. Whether it’s in the bedroom or not.

- Finishes on your face, tits,ass. Likes the look of it it fills some possessive desire inside him. Like he’s marking you.

- And he ain’t tryna get you pregnant

- he may be an absolute dick but he does give you some aftercare. He’s not the cuddly type. But he’ll help you clean up and kiss you, tell you you did a good job. He’ll always make sure you’re doing okay because he loves you

•High honour•

- Treats you like you’re delicate. Even if he knows you’re not. He’s tender. Gentle. He worships you. There is not a single inch of skin unkissed, caressed. Loved.

- He always wants you to come first. And multiple times too. But in a different way to LH!Arthur. He doesn’t want to overstimulate you he just wants to give. Hes such a giver. And he would happily spend an entire day with his head between your thighs if he could.

- Like. This man is a munch. He is. Argue with the wall. He is

- And he’s damn good at it. And thorough. Buries his damn face in you. And you’ve seen the size of his hands, those thick fingers of his make an appearance too. He knows your body well and can hit the perfect spot with practiced ease ‘ that’s it darlin, right there yeah?’

- He’s sloppy with it and he doesn’t care. If his beard isn’t glistening with you when he’s done then he didn’t do it right

- He likes missionary. So he can see your face and kiss you as much as he wants, he just loves to watch you. He likes to see the way he makes you feel, likes to watch the way your face twists and relaxes with the pleasure he gives you.

- Praise!!! So much praise!!!

- ‘Doin so fell f’me darlin takin me so well ‘ ‘ look so pretty like this ‘ ‘ eyes on me darlin, wanna see that pretty face when you come ‘

- Loves you playing/pulling his hair. Whether it’s when he’s got his head between your thighs or when he’s buried deep inside you and you’re desperately clawing at him. He loves it

- He’s a boobs typa guy. Loves to grab them and and suck on them, especially if you have your fingers running through his hair at the same time.

- He likes to finish inside despite the risk. But if not he’ll wait until the very last second and pull out, just spilling onto your stomach. He doesn’t wanna… defile you. You’re a precious creature worthy of being worshipped and desired, not treated like some cheap saloon girl.

- But deep down he wouldn’t even mind if you did get pregnant. He wants nothing more than to have a family with you one day.

- the sweetest aftercare. Cleans you up and helps you get dressed again. The act of dressing someone rather than undressing them is so intimate and he loves it.

- he’ll cuddle you and pet your hair, tell you how much he loves and adores you. How beautiful you are, how good you made him feel. He literally is a never ending fountain of praise.

[becomesylus]

Touched but Untouched

`` obliviousness can be cute when xavier does it, however, it can be aggravating when you want him to do something to you. so you took it upon yourself to do something about it... or so you thought``

xavier x afab!reader (modern au) — 2.4k words

warning/disclaimer: teasing, masturbation, oral fixation, referenced cum eating, open ending

a/n: i hc that xavier is an avid anime watcher... he just does.

minors do not interact. re-read the warnings before reading, as after clicking “keep reading”, i am not responsible for the media you consume.

A game of cat and mouse can be exciting between couples, it can spice it up even for some couples. But, for you and Xavier, the contrary can be said, at least from your end. As much as you find his lack of recognizing social cues endearing, it can be frustrating when you want something out of him, especially when that something revolves around him wanting to go all out on you in a venereal fashion.

Xavier was not at all a bad lover—by the great god is he the most amazing lover, you can confidently say that he is the only male lover you have been with who not only gave you the best orgasms but also awakened new fantasies you never thought you had, on top of the kinks he had fulfilled for you. Unfortunately, however, he did maintain a flaw; you have to be upfront and verbal to get him to have sex with you. You merely thought he was feigning ignorance, you thought he was playing hard to get with you, it was only until he looked at you with a flustered expression that you realized you fucked up.

Thankfully, before you start your panicked frenzy after thinking you've violated your lover, he always reassures you that he is always down to whatever you are into with the softest, gentlest tone with a face cradle and a soft thumb rub on the cheek—of course before he pins your head into the mattress and making you scream from his brutal pounding.

"You just need to be more upfront with me... I'm bad at reading people, y'know?"

He confessed in his typical soft and shy tone, cursed that shy boy duality because you would have never thought that this man would be the cause of you ruining your underwear and sheets while whimpering out his name.

And you are now craving that. It was an innocent invite really, Xavier invited you over in the pretense that you two would catch up on the anime you two have been watching. But he had to open the door and greet you while standing there, black hoodie and sweatpants, looking like the softest, most comfortable, and perfect boyfriend ever, the absolute audacity, and all pure and wholesome intention of this hangout had left out the building of his apartment complex.

Poor Xavier, once again, fell into a trap that you didn't intend to place in the first place. You hoped that he was doing it on purpose so you'd feel less bad to get on his pants, but knowing him, he probably only picked the most comfortable clothes he could sleep in and cuddle with you.

And there you are now; cuddling on the couch while staring blankly into space while your boyfriend is immersed in the sci-fi anime. You were screwed—and wet, to put it bluntly—the moment you stared up at the side profile of Xavier, the colors reflecting on his azure eyes, making them glimmer with glee and anticipation of the exciting media, the TV project the saturated colors of the anime into his pale skin beautifully making him look like an art piece, his tiny dimples indents his cheeks as he giggles at the funny scenes, his perfectly straight nose that was carved from the gods scrunches along with the smile, making it look more beautiful, elegant, and a perfect seat to sit on—

"Babe?"

His honeyed voice interrupted your trance state and made you blink back at him, muttering out a response. You see that the anime has been paused while he looks at you, half-concerned and half-upset.

"You've been staring at me," he said, tilting his head in wonder like a puppy, "I thought you wanted to watch the show with me..."

Fuck, now you feel bad, he is eager to watch something with you and you're over here objectifying him.

"I do, I do, I'm sorry, I just can't help it..." you looked down, almost bashfully, yet you hope this could help Xavier read your mind by your hand stroking his soft silver hair back as you whispered, "you're just too handsome, and my mind is wandering somewhere else..."

"Where would that be?! Want me to—ha..."

Before he could continue spitting out whatever nonsense that could kill the mood, you began stroking in his ears—his erogenous zone—in small, languid motions, making him shudder and expelling a small grunt. His pale skin is later replaced to a flush red face, while his chest raises up and down in pace with his pants.

“(y/n)...” His voice whispered as your fingers roamed from his ears to his jawline to his chin then up to his lips. You got on his lap, while he looked up at you, now both hands holding onto his face, your thumb playing with the bottom of his pink lips. You’re cracking him bit by bit, but you can’t be hasty or else you won’t get the result that you wanted. Lazurite eyes half lidded with desire and urgency, his hands traveled up to your hips, while he looked up at you. 

“You want this, right? I should’ve guessed that you wanted to undress me and fuck me on this couch from the moment you walked in…” His voice rasped with lust, eyes were now blown dark as he pushed himself back, resting his head back on the cushion. His eyes traveled down to your hands on his face, only for him to capture your thumb into his mouth, looking up at you as he began to lightly suck and bite the tip of your digit. Now it was your turn to gasp and shudder at his sudden action.

Fuck, this is much better than what you have envisioned—once again, without intentions, Xavier always exceeds expectation. 

“Hmm, come here,” He muttered erotically as he pulled away your thumb and instead pulled you in to crash his lips into yours. Your mouths open to allow your tongues to entangle each other, leaving you to taste his mint chocolate flavor that coated his—and now your—tongue. You moan against the intimate kiss as your hips begin rolling against his crotch, his hand now gripping your thighs with such vigor. Your hands remain by the sides of his face, one grips his hair, while the other plays with his ear, making him whimper against your lips. He pulls away, making you two catch your breaths, but not for long, as he began gripping your face from your jaw, forcing you to look at him. 

“Since I can’t read social cues like any normal person,” he teasingly hoarse, a smirk started to paint on his face, almost as if he caught on to your act, “I know that mouth can be used for other things aside from criticising me…” he proceeded while he unties the strings of his sweatpants.

Holy shit, you’re wet, you were sure had it not for your jeans, you’d be staining his sweatpants. You didn’t hesitate as you got off of his lap and kneeled in front of him while he completely stripped off his sweatpants, leaving him in his boxers. Even though it was not your first, his imprint always leaves you amazed and drooling for him, the way his cock is begging to be out of the fabric cage makes you eager to have him in your mouth.

As you hastily held the waistline of his boxers, Xavier gripped your wrist as he tsked before he whispered, “Patience, my little star… patience.”

Fucking tease… It aggravated you but you’d lie if you said you hated it though. You huffed while he chuckled as he pushed your hands away, as he slowly stripped off his boxers, finally setting his hard cock free from its restraints. It bounced on his bare stomach where the hoodie has been slightly lifted thanks to that make out session, his pink tip began leaking out precum, essentially calling for it to be loved and cherished by a certain someone’s mouth. You bit your lips as you were met up with his length before looking up at Xavier, expecting any teasing notion from him, but instead, he mimicked your earlier action and began stroking your lips with his thumb before inserting it in your mouth, urging you to suck on it. 

You obliged as your tongue swirled around his finger tip while maintaining eye contact, all the while Xavier wrapped his other hand around his cock and began stroking it in controlled and languid pace, making him sigh a content and pleasurable sound. You never envied anything so bad until you witnessed Xavier’s hand stroking himself, it should’ve been you who pleases him and make him a sighing, breathy mess. Instead, Xavier’s punishing you for your poor judgement on him by forcing you to take his fingers while he stimulates himself in front of you. 

“Hmm, fuck~” Xavier moans as he rolls his neck while he picks up his pace. He was doing it on purpose, despite his quiet demeanor, he is pretty vocal in bed but right now, he was taunting you. He was essentially telling you that he too can make himself feel so good and that to do better than that when HE gives you the chance to do so. You’ve started a cruel game and he, just like every game you two play in, was simply a pro at it. 

Xavier began moving his hand even faster, making let out breathy strings of curse words, the feeling of his cock being stroked and squeezed while watching you silently plead while his finger’s in your mouth was getting too much to bear. He releases his thumb out of your mouth and wraps that same hand around your throat, making you moan and eyes roll back.

“Open up for me…” Xavier spoke through his whimpers as he positioned himself in front of your mouth. You without any argument opened up your mouth, awaiting for what’s to come.

“Oh my fucking—I’m gonna fucking come…” His words were foggy in between the strings of moans and whimpers he was releasing as he strokes even faster, squelching sounds of his cock heightens its volume along with it like an adlib. With a couple of strokes, Xavier’s load releases and lands imperfectly in your lips, making him groan before grunting as more releases. It was a gift that won’t stop coming—literally. Pearly essence coated your lower half of your face, neck, chest and tank top, that you didn’t mind it staining as you were going to steal Xav’s hoodies anyway. But nothing’s more glorious than seeing Xavier’s aftermath as he pants while looking down at you, his hand still wrapped around your throat. He pushes himself forward to you as he whispers against your ears.

“Swallow…”

Once again, you didn’t dare to disobey him and did as he commanded, tasting his salty release that was addicting and irresistible. 

“Good girl,” He leans back and begins to chuckle seductively as he releases your throat and pets your head. While you had your fill, it still wasn’t enough, and Xavier knows this, so he strips off his hoodie and throws it across the living room, leaving him fully bare. He continues to pet your head as he tilts your head in wonder, lust still drawn in his face. He smiles at you darkly, while you gulp down whatever remaining essence that was on your lips—and also of course because of nervousness.

“Still think I can’t read your intentions?” He asks, that menacing smirk still in his face while continuing to stroke your head gently. The juxtaposition leaves you on edge as you simply just looked up at him with apprehension and exhilaration.

“Xavi, baby, I—” Your words were abruptly cut as the hand that was gently holding your head was shoved down to his cock, making you wrap your mouth around it. He moans at the warm feeling of you wrapping around him and you still haven’t begun moving. 

“Fuck, doll, look at what you’ve done to me… you’d have to clean up the mess you’ve created…” He began rambling, your head bobbing along with his words, his hand shoving your head even deeper. Everyday you thank god or whatever entity there is that you don’t have a gag reflex, otherwise you wouldn’t know how to handle your boyfriend’s impressive package. 

“Your mouth… so perfect…”

The sounds that Xavier was producing were godsent, hearing a typically quiet and reserved guy crumbling right beneath your hand—or rather your mouth—making him lose control was a reward in itself and you were winning. You moved in ways you knew you’d elicit more sounds from him, your tongue and hollowed cheeks aided in this session as you licked the salty tip while tightening the space, making him let out the most pathetic whimper. Fuck, you wish you can touch yourself if it not for the jeans you were wearing. 

“S-stop…” Xavier murmured as he begins to pant, indicating that his second release is about to erupt, but you’d pay much mind as you wanted it and more from him. 

“I said stop!” He pulls your head as he grit his teeth at you, that same lust blown eyes is turning more animalistic and threatening. For a moment, you forgot that you were still indebted in your crimes and you were being punished. Your heart sank as he grips your wrist, pulls and pushes you into the mattress underneath him, placing them both on top of your head. Xavier is showing an intimidating side of his and you can’t lie and say that you weren’t leaking in both fear and arousal.

“First, you criticize me, second, you ignore the show I’m oh so excited about and now you’re ignoring my orders… I see I’m being very lenient with my punishment” He scolds, yet his eyes wander down to my body, with one of his hands sneaking from underneath the hem and starts having contact with your skin. His head lowers down to your neck as he begins to kiss and nibble on it. You moan as you feel his bite getting harsher, making him scoff before pulling away. He sees the mark he placed before he coldly looks back at you. 

“You’ll have to repay your crimes… understand?” His words sent shivers down your spine as his fingers underneath your shirt started playing with your soft mounds. 

“Yes, sir,” you uttered in broken terms before moaning as he pinches your nipples while he licks the skin in your collarbone.

God, will this be a long night…

[henneseyhoe]

Guess Who

Lewis Hamilton x BLACK!FEM!Reader

ORDER: Watermelon Lollipop (friends to lovers), S’mores (virginity), Chocolate Kisses (secret admirer), Vanilla Muffin (soft sex), Coffee(smut), Tea (fluff)

SUMMARY: no, lol

💌-mind you, this was supposed to be a headcanon, not a whole one shot and yall can probably tell, but i don’t listen, not even to myself lmfao. hope you enjoy, anon 💋

The Bakery<3

✮✮✮✮

When you and Lewis met, you both were nothing but children. You were younger, but it didn’t matter, both of you were impressionable, soaking up everything you saw. Lewis saw most of the world for what it truly was, you on the other hand, not so much.

You were sheltered by your parents for most of your years, nothing to be shamed about, but you just didn’t know as much as Lewis or any of your other peers when it came to certain things. You felt inexperienced with most things actually.

Because you two were best friends, you followed him nearly everywhere, clinging onto him like your own human safety blanket. Also because being by yourself made you nervous, but that was neither here nor there to you!

There was rarely a time you two were apart! That was up until your own work ramped up and you were forced to separate away from him, keeping busy in Monaco meanwhile he traveled for his work.

Not long after you were forced to separate, you began getting flowers and even poems delivered directly to your office, sometimes waiting there for you when you first clocked in. And not just any poems, sweet ones. Flirty, witty and charming ones. It left you puzzled. Who could be crushing on you? No one in the office, hopefully.

You voiced to your friends about your confusion, each and every one of them either swooning at the idea of a secret admirer falling for you and pulling you out of the shell you called being a grown woman with other things to do than mingle all the time or shrugging with the same confusion as you.

You then asked around your job like an idiot as if any of these grumpy men in their mid forties would give you a real hint, still you felt it was worth a try.

You got turned down three times by people who insisted it wasn’t them and they didn’t know and that left you with nothing to work with! Not even the girl who delivered the notes gave you a hint. yes, even after you bribed her, or attempted, I should say. You found yourself at a dead end again.

It wasn’t until you got yet another note that you had an inkling. One little detail made your thoughts clear from your mind, a bit embarrassment lingering, but mostly still clear. The note contained a secret not even your main circle knew, something you only told two people about in life, two people who you thought were your best friends.

“Did he write this? yes or no!?” You pried, holding Lewis down on the floor of your apartment while shoving the piece of drawn on paper in his face, attempting to get the man to crack. You were the least intimidating person he has ever went up against, so he kept that same goofy smile spread across his face as if he did know something.

“I keep telling you, I don’t know!”

“Then who?! I’ve never told anyone else but you and him! So either you’re lying or one of you snitched and told someone else!”

Lewis sighs and flips you off of him almost too easily, your back coming in contact with the hard floor as your hand still held up the evidence. You made a mental note to hit the weights a little more in the gym.

He pins your arms by your head and huffs, squeezing at your wrists to get you to stop moving, which you protested against by kicking your feet.

“Stop hitting me. If I told you the truth, you wouldn’t believe me” He expresses, an unreadable look on his face now instead of the smile that antagonized you earlier with information hidden behind it you desperately wanted to know. Your brows just furrowed, you already didn’t believe or trust a word he was saying.

“As if it’s so shocking. I know it’s him!”

Lewis rolls his eyes at your stupid assumption and laughs, letting you go with a warning look. “If you think me and him are on the same level of literacy then I need to step my pen up. Cause those poems were some of my best work”

Your eyes widened like a deer in headlights once comprehending what he said.

The bomb he dropped on you in that moment lingered in your head for days, nights even. You refused to dwell on it for long and buried your head in work and books to keep busy, but that damn note found its way into your thoughts at every second. Though Lewis knew casually writing in the fact that you were a virgin in his most recent love letter may have been weird and wasn’t the best idea, he also knew it was the only way he knew you’d knock your options down to only two possibilities.

You could barely fathom the fact that he liked you in that way. He knew everything about you, you’d think that would have scared him away by now, but apparently not. He was still consistent with his letters and roses, even apologizing if he made you uncomfortable or ruined the friendship.

You weren’t uncomfortable, you were shocked. Truth be told, you had always had some kind of a crush on him, feelings and emotions you’d starve until seeing him again and having the privilege of being close, passing it off as your same ole’ clinginess. It was obviously not just that to everyone else.

Lewis knew very well about the attraction, his had always been there, he just thought you rather not speak on it. He then grew tired of that.

With that being said, you were reluctant to follow up with him. He talked a good game, but you feared ruining something that had been amazing for years, which he reassured you if nothing worked, then it’d be no hard feelings. Eventually, you decided to throw caution to the wind.

Giving Lewis a chance may have been the best thing you had done this summer. He took you seriously even with lack of experience in certain areas, he took you into consideration with everything under the sun and made sure to go at your pace..With a few nudges here and there, of course. You’d get nowhere if he counted on you 100%.

As the relationship grew, there was an obvious connection missing. It was the elephant in the room when you two were alone and close together. You weren’t a square, damn sure wasn’t incompetent either. You just…had never had sex before.

It was never a need to lose your virginity, you truly didn’t care, or at least that’s what you told yourself on many occasions and days of ovulation.

You two had the conversation about sex multiple times and agreed it’d just happen naturally.. even though he wanted it badly and you found yourself daydreaming and thinking about it more often than you’d ever like to admit to anyone, even yourself.

It was almost unbearable not doing anything. Even though you had never went to second base, your body made it known it had needs. Your skin heated anytime his touches lingered anywhere on you. It started to become painfully obvious too.

When the moment you both had been thinking about for long enough manifested itself in the middle of the night in your bedroom, you felt your heart was gonna jump out of your chest the entire time. The soft caresses of your skin accompanied by sweet kisses along your collar bone left your head spinning and your tummy fluttering with butterflies that seemed to never subside.

Your face was hot and your mind was racing, he didn’t give you time to be insecure about anything.

You watched him go down on you, his wet tongue teasingly gliding between your lips, the tip of it landing on your clit as he completed one lick. You shuttered. Long before you had convinced yourself that masturbation felt the same as someone down there, but you lied to yourself, unaware until now.

The thought of someone pleasuring you, getting off to you getting off was so erotic, so nasty, but damn did it help to get you close. Soft moans flooded his ears in reaction to every flick of his tongue and it had him throbbing in his briefs, a wet spot from his precum darkening the fabric against his tip as he ground himself against your bed while he licked away at your sensitive pearl.

You avoided pulling on his freshly done braids, curtesy of you, and instead went for your fitted sheets.

He began sucking on your clit while two finger circled around your soaked entrance, you pulling at your sheets again so hard that one end popped off of the mattresses corner.

Neither of you gave it attention, too busy to care.

He encouraged you to tell him when it felt good, when you needed more or less, and you gladly followed instructions.

“Just like that”

You mumble out, toes curling. He was doing irreparable damage. You didn’t think you could go back to just self pleasure after this.

Flattening his tongue, he allowed you to buck your hips up into his face to ride his tongue at your own pace while simultaneously slipping two of his fingers inside of you, massaging your walls until they gripped to the point it where it was hard to complete a full thrust. From then, he just made a ‘come hither’ motion, pressing up against your gspot with skill as you moaned out a name you didn’t think you’d ever be moaning, his.

He covered your entire body with his when he entered you. It felt like he held your hands the entire time too, pinning them to the mattress as his hips collided with yours in a rhythm he made up on the spot just for you, customized with what he knew made you tick. The strokes were slow, but long, and deep enough to where it felt like he reached the end of your pussy, pushing the boundaries of the ‘wall’ any time he’d bottom out into you. You felt so full of him, so warm. You felt like melting into the bed just then.

“Look at me, baby”

You hear from above you, your eyes fluttering back open to look up into the honey colored pools he called eyes. You began getting flustered, but it was all too late for shyness. He had already unlocked something no one else had the pleasure of even getting close to. He loved the thought of it.

“You are so fucking beautiful. I could stay like this all night” He confessed, a breathy moan exiting his mouth after. The sound of his voice sent shivers up your spine and tingling to your clit. Your back arched off of the bed, your chest smashing against his as your legs closed in around his hips to somehow pull him deeper, needing him closer than he already was.

He could feel the constant pull of your walls, the muscles spasming and tightening around his shaft as his pelvis nudged your clit, the sensation being deliciously different from your fingers.

Soon enough he was quickening his thrusts just a little, one hand letting go of yours to cradle your face instead, now forcing you to look at nothing but him. You whined.

“Lew-“ Breathless and dazed, you could feel a tug in the pit of your stomach and somehow he could feel it too. He could feel how close you were, you didn’t have to speak. Both of your moans intertwined with each other and you could swear your neighbors hated you now just from the way your bed began knocking against your wall.

By now, he could barely pull out with his hips stuttering, but all you needed was the grinding, you could easily cum off of just that.

“I can feel it-“ You gasped as your eyes rolled back. You only had a small idea of what it really was, a sample from your own late night sessions, but this one felt completely different. Something that had you feeling a different warmth all over, your vision blurring in and out before everything around you except for Lewis became nonexistent. It was just you and him. Him and you.

His arms wrapped around your body to hold you as you came down for your high and he peaked at his, drenching the inside of the condom he put on beforehand. Thankfully, because you feared the mysterious “it” feeling would create a little person that looked like the both of you.

Panting and whispering sweet nothings into your ear, he refused to let you go again.

You two stayed there the rest of the night, bodies pressed together with you tracing his tattoos and him caressing up your sides, thanking you for giving him the chance.

✮✮✮✮

💌- the way i’m sooo sleepy and sooo shocked i got this out in one day? look at me go, oh em geeee!

[hellfirenacht]

Anomaly Part 4

Summary: You can talk to anyone in school with no problem. At least, anyone who’s not named Eddie Munson.

Tags: Anxious-ish!Reader but not shy, one sided pining, no use of y/n, fem!reader, one sided enemies to lovers, fem!reader

Word Count: 2.2k words

Master List

“The only reason she didn’t smack you was because she broke her arm.” Gareth said before downing the rest of his soda and crunching it on the table. 

“I didn’t do anything to warrant a smacking.” Eddie said, crossing his arms. This had gone on for the past few minutes, where the guys had been hounding him about being seen with you and an ex-cheerleader. “I was a gentleman and carried her books to the cafeteria.” 

“She looked terrified to be seen with you.” Gareth was reaching for one of Jeff’s tater tots and yelped as his hand was smacked away. 

“So what else is new? Everyone’s afraid of Eddie except us.” Grant shrugged which caused the rest of the table to laugh before Eddie shot them a look that made them all shut up. 

It was a blessing and a curse being the Freak of Hawkins High. Eddie knew that most people were afraid of him here, and that’s what he liked. Having people scared of him, or at least apprehensive of him, made it easier to keep an eye on his club. People moved out of the way when he moved through the hallways now, unlike his first four years of high school when he was pushed around. 

Maybe it was because after that first senior year, Eddie had hit another growth spurt and looked more adult than most of the students. Wayne had once made a dry joke that if he cut his hair and wore a nice shirt for once he’d be mistaken for a teacher. Eddie had taken that personally and had spent his last few dollars on a metal WASP pin that weekend. 

Eddie knew he looked dangerous to the average student, and a criminal to the average teacher. When Eddie looked in the mirror, he just saw himself. 

“Did she say why she saved your ass from being expelled?” Dustin piped in, stealing one of Gareth’s tater tots while he was still trying to take Jeff’s. 

“No, but she said she fell to distract everyone over the fact that Miles shit himself during the pep rally.” Eddie deadpanned. 

“That’s the closest you’ll ever get to talking to a cheerleader, congratulations, Eddie.” Jeff said, with a mouth full of tater tots, finding it easier to shove them all in his mouth at once rather than spend the rest of lunch fending off Gareth. 

“Ex-cheerleader.” Eddie said without thinking. He wondered if Stacy blamed him for what happened. She didn’t seem pissed at him though, then again you seemed to dislike him enough for the both of you.  

“Exactly.” 

Quickly losing interest in this whole topic, Eddie pulled out his cassette player, removed the batteries, gave them a good shake and put them back in before pushing play. The rest of the club went back to talking about other things. As for Eddie, he had been listening to the same damn song for a week to get the riff right. With the rest of the club growing sick of the song, it gave Eddie an excuse to bow out of the conversation for a moment. 

He glanced back over at the table you were at for just long enough to see you and Stacy having a heated debate about something. What was it that got you so passionate right now? 

You looked frustrated, but you usually did when he was around. 

The rest of the day passed by at a snail's pace, with the days getting longer outside now and with how close he was to the end of the school year it was hard to keep momentum up. Eddie had come into this school year swinging, determined to pass those last few classes and get the hell out of here. But like anything that wasn’t D&D or music, the longer things went the harder it became. 

Senioritis was already bad, but for a 3rd year in a row? This was getting ridiculous. 

He thought back to this past summer where he sucked it up and signed up for summer school. Two classes over two months to show that he could count to twenty without taking his shoes off and say that Hitler was the one who killed Hitler and that gave him two shiny credits under his belt so that this year he only had to worry about Science and the PE class he had been skipping since middle school.

As much as it sucked, it was quick and easy and Eddie really just wished that regular school was as easy as summer school was. At least in summer school he was with the rest of the burnouts and future flunkies. No one there gave two shits about popularity. 

The final bell rang and he made his way to the parking lot towards his van. If there was one thing that his dad did right by him, it was leaving Eddie his van. His band and this piece of junk was his ticket out of Hawkins as soon as he had that diploma. 

Eddie passed the buses, taking the long way around as it was a surprisingly warm day for early Spring. 

His mind was distracted, wandering to the next time Corroded Coffin would practice- he needed to tune his guitar first, and check to make sure the amp was going to live to see another show, call Ronnie and-

THUMP

“Watch it!” Eddie turned and snapped as someone shoulder checked him as they rushed to the bus behind them. It was reflex, the past two years he’d dealt with this bullshit less and less and he wasn’t about to let it go now.

Eddie stopped as he made eye contact with you. You were gripping your arm and staring him down, caught between a snarl and a deer in the headlights. He met your gaze unflinching, until you blinked first and looked away. 

“Sorry.” you said before running onto the nearest bus. 

Shit. You probably hadn’t meant to actually shoulder check him. You had apologized, albeit reluctantly. If there was one thing he could give you credit for, you never went out of your way to be outright cruel to him. You just... didn’t like him. He could live with that for the next few months. 

Still, the sight of you running onto the bus stirred up the memory of the first time he remembered seeing you this past summer. You were always the first person on the bus in summer school. Guess that hadn’t changed. 

---

As long as you kept your headphones on and had a window seat, the bus wasn’t the worst thing in the world. You missed the freedom of being able to drive to and from school, stopping at gas stations for snacks or going to downtown Hawkins just to loiter around the shops. 

The first day on the bus was as peaceful as one could hope. Your personal mixtape was buzzing in your ear, you stared out the window as your peers were dropped off groups at a time at different stops. Some had parents waiting for them, some didn’t. You knew yours wouldn’t be. As soon as you hit freshman year, they swapped to the night shift deeming you old enough to take care of your own dinner, on your second round of summer school you saw them even less. 

Eddie was also held back, that wasn’t exactly a secret in the school and he could hardly pass as a pimple ridden teen anyway. That was also one of the reasons you seemed to gravitate to him. But while everyone knew about Eddie’s schooling history, having come to Hawkins late in your high school career, it allowed you a bit of extra discretion. Stacy was the only one who knew this was your second round of senior year. 

Your arm throbbed under your cast on the way home today, your face burning from embarrassment that you had almost had a nice conversation with Eddie earlier, but now he thought you shoulder checked him. You thunked your forehead against the window with a sigh. 

Eddie didn’t talk to you until the following Wednesday when the two of you were cornered by your teacher after the bell rang. You could see the look in Ms. Benson’s eyes what she wanted to talk about, but why was Eddie involved?

Ms. Benson handed Eddie his last paper, a C- scribbled at the top. Passing, but barely. Salt in the wound to you, and you looked down at your cast, picking at it. 

“You’re phoning it in, Mr. Munson.” she said. “I know that you don’t need this class to finally graduate but I don’t like mediocre work.”

You didn’t like that he was getting lectured when you were right there. Where was the decorum? The dignity? You wanted to crawl into the linoleum. 

Ms. Benson turned to you before Eddie could say anything. “You didn’t turn your paper in.” she said blatantly. She might as well have turned to Eddie and told him directly that you were a lazy dumbass. 

“I broke my wrist.” you said, more to the signature of Allie from gym class than to your teacher. If you had done literally anything else in class this year, then maybe that excuse could have worked, but you hadn’t and it didn’t. 

Ms. Benson took a look at you both and let out a long sigh. “I’m giving you both a chance to fix this.” she said. “I’m willing to offer you both extra credit to give you either a bonus on your final papers or replace a missing one.”

It was a good deal, a very very generous offer. Too generous-

“And what’s the catch, Ms, B?” Eddie asked skeptically. 

“I need volunteers for Spring Day.” she said. “You help with that, and I’ll give you the extra credit.” 

Spring Day was basically a free day where kids could either skip school or come for a slack off day. There were games, events happening at the gym, fields, and library, catered lunches, and plenty of ways to sneak off. 

“Sorry, no can do.” Eddie said. “I was banned from Spring Day. I have a hot date with in school suspension and you know how Higgins hates it when I cancel on him like that.” 

“I already cleared it with him.” Ms. Benson said, shocking Eddie. “As long as you stay away from the balloon pop booth.”

You saw Eddie smirk out of the corner of your eye. “I was framed, I swear.” 

“Of course you were.” She said dismissively. “So,I expect both of you to show up after school on Mondays and Wednesdays to meet me to help set this up. We only have a few weeks, and the budget is tight.”

Well, there was clearly no choice now. Just like that, you were now being volun-told to help with the one day a year you didn’t feel guilty about doing jack shit. 

“...Go away now.” Ms. Benson said, and you and Eddie didn’t need to be told twice. You turned tail and damn near ran out of the room. 

You were at your locked, struggling with the damn lock when you heard a voice next to you. “Do you think humiliation was also part of the extra credit, or are we just lucky?” 

Eddie had followed you to your locker, he was the last person you wanted to see after that. “I guess.” you mumbled, awkwardly shoving books in as you grabbed your lunch. 

You could handle feeling judged by teachers and your fellow students. That was the norm since you were a kid. God, Eddie was on his sixth year! Why did you care what he thought about you? Wouldn’t he understand better than anyone at this school what you were dealing with? 

You closed the locker harder than you meant to and Eddie winced. Shit. You had to say something to ease the tension. 

“...What did you do to the water balloons?” You asked, looking at him. Eddie smiled wide at you. 

“Allegedly I added some fun food coloring to the water.” he shrugged. “I didn’t think this school hated red and black so much.” 

You cracked a smile despite yourself. “It’s not exactly school colors.” 

“It’s not.” Eddie agreed, messing with one of his rings. His eyes darted past you, and you looked over to see Stacy walking over. 

“Eddie.” she nodded with a pleasant smile. Maybe too pleasant? No, that’s weird to think about your best friend. 

“Stacy.” Eddie nodded back. 

You had a weird feeling that there was a conversation going on, that you were in the middle of. You tried to shake off the thought, Stacy knew everyone. Stacy had a way of making everyone feel important, plus she was super pretty. You couldn’t blame Eddie for looking at her, and you tried to squash that glob of jealousy. Stacy was your best friend, she wouldn’t make a move on the guy you’ve been pining over. 

Stacy turned to you. “We’re sitting outside today with Nancy. She wants to interview me for the school paper.” 

“Wheeler?” you asked. “Uh, sure.” Stacy had so many damn accolades you didn’t bother asking which one she was being interviewed for. You’d read about it later. “Uh, see you on Wednesday, I guess, Eddie.”

“Yeah, see ya.” Eddie agreed as Stacy lead you away. 

“Wednesday?” she whispered with a glint in her eyes. “The second we turn the corner you’re talking.”

----

2 posts in one day?! Yeah lol. This fic is pure stream of consciousness so even I barely know what's happening. I have a vague idea of story beats bot otherwise this fic is always hot off the press lol.

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[hitlikehammers]

oh golden boy (don't act like you were kind)

part ii: you shined a light on your home

for @kultiras at the ❄️ Winter @steddieexchange 🖤💚

<<< part one

Eddie will not pretend he doesn’t squeak when Dustin bustles past him into the house—a wholly appropriate ranch on the edge of town, with two whole separate bedrooms, no one on the couch anymore, plus a little side room that Eddie thinks probably wasn’t meant as a guest room but can definitely fit about three sleeping bags, four at a push—but yeah, he should have expected Dustin to shove his way into Eddie’s home whether Eddie invited it or not.

He doesn’t have to like it. Or approve of it. Or tolerate it without complaint; without pushing back.

“Hend—” he tries to sound stern, tries to project hand-on-hips-authority like St—

Like some people do. Sometimes. So Eddie’s heard.

“Implied consent!” Dustin cuts him off, voice carrying from at least the living room already, Jesus fuck, this kid; his tone.

Eddie’s glaring hard enough to almost definitely bore a hole through this shithead’s skull, or maybe make him spontaneously combust. If Supergirl was the one glaring, it’d be a done deal.

“You didn’t shut the door, thereby participating in the creation of an entrance,” Dustin’s rambling on and Christ, but he’s such a pompous little fuck sometimes.

“Which is great, and super smart of you,” Dustin tells him earnestly, actually, and wow: if that isn’t condescending, holy fuck; “because the quicker we can address the problem, the quicker it can be solved,” and then he’s turning of his heel and fucking…clapping his hands to together like Eddie’s in goddamn kindergarten.

“So!” Dustin barks with a weird enthusiasm. “Now we can talk about what you did to Steve, and how you’re gonna fix it.”

Eddie blinds at him for a couple couple seconds before throwing his hands up and half-kinda snarling, half-kinda whining:

“What the fuck, man?”

And honestly, Eddie’s torn just now between hurt and angry, indignant and bleeding out a little, because he doesn’t like Dustin accusing him blindly, here, and while he’s long grown past thinking the hero worship was unfounded—honestly, if he’s going to have to think about the man explicitly instead of as the understood ‘you’ that the constant ache of him and his absence has settled as in Eddie’s universe: he thinks what he clocked as hero worship in the beginning probably could have used some bulking up, because…the genuine article was so much more than even the stories Eddie’d refused to believe at the start.

But, back it up: Eddie…Eddie can accept Dustin coming to Steve’s defense—encouraged it, even. But, like, Dustin has stood up for Eddie, too, and just…Eddie didn’t do anything, he’s spent enough cold nights with his arms stretched missing what they’d learned so well to wrap around and hold so close, mourning what’s not there and hell yes, he’s run down every little detail he can think of, where he might have been the one to drive Steve away without ever, ever meaning to, and it boils down the same every time: there’s nothing.

He wishes there was. Because then yeah, like Dustin’s saying—there’d be something to fix. Something to do, to try and salvage what Eddie is entirely aware was very probably the love of his fucking life.

But there isn’t.

“Clearly something is wrong between the two of you,” Dustin gestures broadly in the air, extravagant for no reason but then also it kinda fits entirely because this entire heartbreak of an affair is basically the most devastating thing that’s ever tried to take Eddie down, and he was basically dead in another dimension that one time, so.

That’s saying something, is what he’s getting at.

“And like, I’ve watched when Steve’s been the one to fuck up, man, so like, I can recognize the signs and,” Dustin shakes his head, looks not exactly apologetic but not entirely all-in guns-blazing about pinning the blame on Eddie alone. At least not without giving him a fair shake to explain first.

Which he’d do, if he had any fucking idea what caused them to crash and burn when they’d been the most solid thing Eddie had ever seen, let alone been a part of; got to feel for himself.

“I know Steve,” Dustin says carefully, kinda slow, almost reluctant, which Eddie doesn’t really get until the next part comes out, a little choked, like tears muscled down:

“I’ve never seen him like this.”

Well. Fuck.

Fuck.

“It’s the holidays, man,” Eddie tries to make it sound casual, or at the very least genuine, like his pulse hasn’t jumped for the idea that Steve’s…not okay. Not fucking thriving like he deserves, now that Eddie’s out of the way of what makes him as happy as he should always be. “Sometimes people are just a little down in the dumps, it’s not unheard of,” and he thinks that lands okay, those are all true things, no one needs to know the way his heart’s thumping like a rabbit as his head goes to all sorts of horrible possibilities, and he shouldn’t let himself slide down those pathways anymore, it’s not his business, Steve isn’t—

“He’s not just sad,” Dustin shakes his head; “he’s not,” and he trails off and Eddie’s heartbeat stutters then jackhammers wild for the way Dustin’s face crumples over a fucking interminable stretch of moments that drives every horror possible through fragile arteries not prepared for how much it hurts, laced with the acids at the base of Eddie’s throat and rising, banged around with every beat and—

“I don’t think he’s sleeping,” Dustin says, so quiet, hard to tell if there are actual tears of just the threat of them. “I don’t think he’s eating,” and he takes a shaky breath that gets mirrored in Eddie’s blood, sniffles as he adds on, kinda desperate, fraying at the seams: “Robin can’t even…”

He stops, breathes a couple of times and collects himself—too good at that. Eddie…

Eddie doesn’t even try to do that, for his part. He’s not…strong, like these kids. Like the rest of this little rag-tag-trauma family unit. Eddie isn’t built that impermeable. S’why he’s always had to put on a show, scare people off before they get close enough to see the obvious.

Until…Steve.

And the proof of Eddie’s weaknesses are front and centre right now, so. Case in point.

“I met him right after he and Nancy broke up,” Dustin’s saying after he takes the time to regroup, huffing a breath and furrowing his brows at nothing, until: “after she did the,” and he circles his wrist around again and oh. Oh.

Bullshit.

Eddie’s brow furrows, too, at that.

“I didn’t know it at the time, obviously, and not like I was really paying attention anyway,” Dustin screws up his face a little, like he’s angry at a lot of people for what he’s remembering, and he’s not exempt from his own list; “but you said it yourself, you thought they were meant to be,” Dustin points at him in the sort of way that presses down on Eddie’s shoulders, makes him feel queasy and just…small.

“Unmitigated love, or whatever,” Dustin half-sneers and he doesn’t think that was the word he used but fuck if Eddie’s not transported back to those woods, to those first inklings that his heart was gonna leap and know it couldn’t stick the landing, would less crack and more like splatter, a messy ruin on the sidewalk for trying, for reaching when there was nothing to hook with a grip—

Except there had been, in the end. He hadn’t known it then—just reveled in the way it felt to brush arms against that man, to lean close enough to feel his heat in the frigid deadspace that was the hellscape they were trekking through.

But the end, as it has come anyway, did in fact leave him a fucking spatter-scape on the concrete, exactly the same as he’d feared at the start.

But Dustin fucking Henderson hadn’t been there when Eddie was making eyes at Mr. Former High School Royalty, so—

“How the fuck do you—”

“Doesn’t matter how,” Dustin waves him off like he’s a fucking idiot for asking a question that’s beneath his concern for the topic at hand. “Youthought that,” he rocks forward in emphasis and okay, fine, yeah. Eddie had thought that.

It’d taken a long fucking while for Eddie to stop thinking it; he’s tried not to wonder, now, if he was foolish to ever stop thinking it.

But: no. Of all the reasons Steve got sick of him, he doesn’t think it was because Steve decided to want Nancy. He remembers every word Steve told him about that time, and how Eddie knew it was downplayed for how much Steve took the brunt of her rejection, for how generous Steve was in hindsight to remember how it went down; how genuinely worrisome it was to know Steve actually saw himself as deserving what he’d gotten.

Still. Back in the Upside Down, Eddie had thought it. Told him to get it back. Couldn’t fathom her not seeing the error of her ways even before he comprehended just how egregious her errors ran the first time, just how little even unambiguous signs of love might still fail to deserve Steve Harrington.

But before he knew: he had thought he understood well enough to judge.

Just more reasons for Eddie Munson to quality as an unmitigated idiot.

“So when he lost that,” Dustin’s picking back up again, has got his explaining cap on, trying to map a diagram or some shit, save that it’s Steve and it feels…insufficient in every way, insulting at that, to think Steve could ever be made…simple like that. Cut and dry.

Eddie bristles at it. Maybe he doesn’t have the right anymore, but: Dustin sure as fuck does, and needs to do better.

“He was still okay enough, after that, to fucking join a quest for demodogs and get beat to hell by a psychopath,” Dustin’s saying with the kind of gravity all of a sudden that feels up to reshaping the world; “all just to protect some kids he didn’t even know.”

Eddie can feel where this is headed, can see the lead up to where Dustin’s going to drop them.

He wishes like hell that he couldn’t.

“So if he’s like this, now,” and Dustin sounds…fucking distraught, like all the posturing of pressuring Eddie to reveal what the hell had gone wrong, what he’d done to destroy them, to lose his Steve: the anger and the bafflement was all secondary.

The kid’s fucking scared.

And this kid? Who’s stared down certain death, who’s jumped after Eddie’s stupid ass when the end was imminent, no question?

That…that ratchets Eddie’s pulse up, considerably. For what it has to…mean.

“I have never,” and Dustin’s voice is kind of raspy, kind of too strained and Eddie…Eddie thinks it’d be shitty of him to say that Dustin only sounds like he’s struggling with a fraction of what Eddie’s starting to feel head-on, the bone-deep trembling worry for the unspoken details that must comprise the current state of Steve, piled on top of the wholesale grief and the mourning of both what Eddie’d had, and what he’d been hoping he’d be allowed, be able to keep.

It’d be shitty to say that. So he won’t.

Say it.

“Eddie, I have never seen him like this.”

And it’s all Eddie can do not to whimper, or moan pathetically because the hurt in those words is visceral, and it’s not supposed to be there because Eddie was the problem, he was what was hurting Steve and he’s out of the equation. So what’s causing this much anxiousness, this much concern? How could something have gone to shit so quickly, in just the weeks they’ve been apart—what’s wrong with his Stevie?

(And maybe Steve isn’t his anymore but by god, Eddie is Steve’s, will be to the day he dies, he thinks—no, he knows; no matter where he goes or who he becomes, a part of his heart will belong to Steve for always, whether it’s wanted or not. So that’s his Steve. Where is heart lives. Where is love burns, even as a nuisance. He can’t stop it. He can’t put it out.

It’s with his Steve, and no other.)

“And like,” and Eddie pulls himself enough out of his wallowing, his fretting, the aching in his fucking veins to focus on Dustin as he eyes Eddie up blatantly, the squints a little:

“You don’t look like you’re doing the best, either.”

Okay. Rude.

“Gee, thanks,” Eddie tries to drawl annoyingly, fails miserably; aim to bat his eyes at an attempt at levity that he knows falls flat as hell.

He doesn’t know if he was even trying for it more for Dustin’s sake, or his own.

“Fuck off, man,” Dustin rolls his eyes; “I’m serious,” then he’s gets that grave tone about him again and Eddie hates that these kids have to even know how to be that serious about anything—least of all him, and his…whatever you call the ruins of your everything, when it comes to—

“You might not be hurting like Steve is,” Dustin tells him plain, doesn’t pull punches; “like you’re joyful in comparison,” and okay, ouch—

“But that’s not a healthy bar to clear.”

And Dustin’s eyes are a little narrowed around the call-out, the judgement on so many levels but they’re also…open somehow. Trying to be receptive, and welcoming.

Trying to be a good friend—for Steve and Eddie alike.

“Henderson,” Eddie shakes his head even before his voice strains; “he,” and all the fight goes out of him, drained dry better than the bats ever managed to leave him which is for the best, really, because what he says next, what he admits next is as good as slicing as artery, the way it flays him open to speak into the world:

“He doesn’t want me around.”

He doesn’t want you—

“Oh, right,” Dustin snarks at him with a glare; “definitely doesn’t wilt whenever you come up, doesn’t leave the room or anything,” then it’s Dustinwho wilts a little, somewhere between a pout and concern:

“When we actually get to see him at all.”

“That would be a prime example,” Eddie notes with a kind of…devastated intent, shoving the stabbing sense of worry at the core of him out of the way to make his point: “of what someone does when they don’t want a person around,” and Eddie is right, he’s absolutely right because that’s just natural, that’s a normal reaction and here is clear proof that—

“Not Steve.”

Dustin cuts Eddie’s mental conviction off at its knees with the sheer amount of feeling, of certainty in his tone, like he knows this one thing beyond all the doubt in the world.

It’s that certainty that sours worst in Eddie’s gut.

“If Steve doesn’t want something, he ignores it,” Dustin says, insistent and so fucking sad; “I think it goes back to his parents, like,” Dustin shrugs, and Eddie feels bile at the back of his throat.

“If you’re unwanted, you’re neglected, treated like you don’t exist,” and not for the first time, Eddie kinda-sorta regrets that the murder charges didn’t stick, because then he’d be tarred and feathered appropriately to just go ahead and off the fuckers that made Steve ever wonder if he was somehow anything less than the best person, the most deserving of everything.

“Because that hurts worse,” Dustin says, low, like he gets it. Like he hates it.

“Being invisible hurts the worst.”

Death would be too easy for those fucking assholes who taught Steve that, just because their own hearts were hateful. Eddie…Eddie wants to run to his Stevie and just, fucking, hold him. Make sure he remembers that it doesn’t matter if Eddie’s near or far, his or never close again: he’ll always matter to Eddie. He’ll never, ever be invisible.

“I,” Eddie licks his lips when the silence stretches too long, and Dustin doesn’t seem inclined to fill it this time. “He,” and Eddie’s mouth is too dry, throat still too tight; “we’ve been—”

“You’re together.”

Eddie freezes, heart doing a kind of hard brake thing that shakes him from the ribs on out, and Eddie may not have know where the hell he was going, how he was going to summarize then sanitize what it feels like to give all that you are and be found wanting in the end—but he hadn’t once considered fucking saying…that.

“What?” Eddie chokes, half-assed at best. It’s shock more than it’s denial, save that it should have been past tense, even if Eddie’s whole fucking soul is still with Steve, but he doesn’t think he knows or even fully wants to reel it back.

Ever.

But while they hadn’t hid anything more than in plain sight? They…no one was ever told they’d been dating, and, he, they—

“If even I can see it,” Dustin says, not unkindly exactly but…definitely blunt: “that kinda means it’s an open secret.”

Eddie coughs around the tight shock squeezing at his throat:

“Those aren’t your words,” he manages, because—they aren’t.

And Dustin looks briefly like he sucked on a lemon, knows he can’t fight the obvious.

“Max,” he sighs, admitting from where he’s borrowing uncharacteristic insight; “she told me I was the last to know.”

Any other day, about any other thing, Eddie would feel a much bigger sense of petty vindication in Dustin’s forced humbling.

As it stands? Eddie’s chest hurts too much to fit any kind of twisted delight of the kind getting any sort of foothold in him.

“Right,” he breathes out in an airy, useless kind of sound, doesn’t know where it’s going, doesn’t know what he’s doing.

He feels…actually?

Dying felt less tumultuous than what’s starting to churn through his veins right now, no fucking lie.

“You guys could have told us,” Dustin prods, a little sad, disappointed—hurt that he was left out.

“I,” Eddie’s mouth works around a lot of thoughts, a lot of half-formed feelings because what would it have been like to hold Steve where the people they loved could see, just because they could? To sit in his lap when he got tired, when the scars ached a little from doing too much for too long with the kids. To warm his hands just under the hem of a sweater. To just, just—

“Doesn’t matter now,” is what Eddie lands on, because it’s the honest conclusion of all his wishful wondering; bitter in his voice as much as it is in his chest. “It’s over.”

Fuck. Fuck, has he even said that out loud, yet? Can’t have—it hits too much like whiplash. Like the world ending.

“Doesn’t sound over,” Dustin volleys back like it’s simple; “is it over, for you?”

He asks it, like it’s enough to love with all that you are when it’s got nowhere to go anymore. Like he can strong-arm that kind of feeling through will alone. That one side can make a relationship on their own.

“It sure as hell doesn’t look like it’s over for him,” Dustin stares him down, now, something shifting in his demeanor that screams that he’s done playing games.

“What did you say?” Dustin asks him, something a little pleading in it, but Eddie’s throat won’t work, he can’t fucking speak and Dustin reads it as avoidance, instead of like Eddie’s heart is trying to rip out past his fucking trachea.

“What did he say?” but Dustin doesn’t sound even remotely convinced for his own self that this is on Steve. That it could be on Steve. And…again. Dustin hasn’t been shy about supporting one of them over the other when necessary.

“I,” and how is Eddie even supposed to breach explaining the chain of events that he can parse, leading to where things stand now? Sorry buddy, your ineffably physical and endlessly affectionate brother-slash-babysitter started refusing my kisses and sleeping on the edge of the bed so he barely touched me when he used to be a goddamn octopus to my sloth, grabbing and never letting go until he did, entirely, which is to say nothing of the sex, fuck, did you know your taxi driver is loud as shit in bed, but then all of a sudden if we even had sex he was suddenly silent and if there’s ever a blow to your ego, it’s to fuck your boyfriend and get nothing in response save sometimes tears he doesn’t acknowledge in the aftermath, that really makes a guy feel special.

Yeah, he’s not going to say that. He doesn’t even know how to get across how Steve pulled away, slow and all at once at the same time, overnight as much as it felt like it happened in pieces. But he stiffened when Eddie so much as brushed against him. He barely talked to Eddie. He was always taking extra shifts at work. He didn’t want to be around Eddie. He didn’t want Eddie, outgrew him in the course of weeks, maybe months if Eddie just hadn’t noticed in the beginning, but, it just…they were amazing, one minute. Perfect.

And then they…weren’t.

“He, I mean, it,” and Eddie grabs at his hair and hides behind it, because all of that’s true, all of what he saw and felt and lost in his relationship with Steve before it stopped: it’s accurate.

But then there’s…everything Dustin’s saying. And…Steve was pulling away from him, turning away from him, but did he…was he seeing Robin, or only at work? Was he seeing the rest of the Party?

“He was,” Eddie tries to find a throughway to follow but he’s too distracted because…was Steve sleeping before Eddie stopped coming to bed at all, because everything he tried wasn’t enough, because it was breaking him to keep lying there and not just be ignored, but be actively avoided? Was he…had Steve not been eating regularly, before Eddie left—

Wait.

Eddie…Eddie didn’t leave. He went to Wayne’s, the home that wasn’t the one Steve grew up in, when he needed to get more clothes. It was getting too cold, and since he’d basically moved in with Steve right out of the hospital and never really moved out, he’d been migrating what had survived the old trailer little by little as needed and so he’d…he’d gone to get things.

He’d broken down when his uncle asked him what was wrong, said he looked like someone ran over his cat.

More like his heart, but. Same idea.

And then he’d…he’d been scared. He’d called the house to try and ask Steve when he wanted Eddie to come back, because he’d wondered after telling Wayne everything—and hearing him talk about what it was like coming back from war for some of his buddies—if Steve just needed some space: but the line had rang and rang and rang. Didn’t even grab the machine.

And Eddie had…Eddie had cried so fucking hard he could have sworn he’d busted something in his eye. But…but…

never gonna leave you all alone again

He gasps to himself when the words run lightning quick through his head, and his heart clenches fucking hard.

Did…did Eddie, did he go and…and leave Steve…

Did he leave his Stevie alone?

No. No, it was, Eddie never wanted to keep his distance.

Eddie doesn’t stay awake to all hours staring the the ceiling while his body reels at what it knows it’s missing because he wants to. He doesn’t jolt awake lamenting that emptiness because he likes it, whenever his consciousness drifts in fitful bursts that he doesn’t feel like he deserves, because while he’d maybe been slinking back to lick his wounds when he went to Wayne’s, he would never have even thought to do this own his own, to be estranged.

Though all of those things aren’t without the parasitic leech of a thought on the side: he told you to leave with everything but words, and only that because he stopped taking at all.

But…but Eddie can’t live with Steve hurting. And maybe Steve doesn’t want him, doesn’t love him like that anymore. But Eddie thought of him as his friend, even if they never had a space between where they were just friends and not everything.

And it sounds like maybe Steve could use a friend. Maybe he doesn’t want Eddie for that either, but. Eddie’s kinda in agony at just the thought of the picture Dustin’s been painting.

“It’s Christmas,” Dustin takes that unspoken cue to pipe back up; “like, I just,” and he ends on a note of straight-up entreaty, damn close to pleading:

“Fix it, man.”

And Eddie…

Eddie doesn’t think he’s wanted, in general. Certainly not to be the one who fixes…anything.

But a nice chunk of his heart is with this man who is apparently hurting, and Eddie’s soul-certain love is fixed on him, probably for the rest of fucking time, so.

He’s sitting here being unwanted already.

Won’t hurt to try; can’t possibly end up worse.

❄️

>>> part iii

for @kultiras🖤

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divider credit here

[mrs-stans]

Sebastian Stan Tells All: Becoming Donald Trump, Gaining 15 Pounds and Starring in 2024’s Most Controversial Movie

By Daniel D'Addario

Sebastian Stan Variety Cover Story

It started with the most famous voice on the planet, the one that just won’t shut up.

Sebastian Stan, in real life, sounds very little like Donald Trump, whom he’s playing in the new film “The Apprentice.” Sure, they share a tristate accent — Stan has lived in the city for years and attended Rutgers University before launching his career — but he speaks with none of Trump’s emphasis on his own greatness. Trump dwells, Stan skitters. Trump attempts to draw topics together over lengthy stem-winders (what he recently called “the weave”), while Stan has a certain unwillingness to be pinned down, a desire to keep moving. It takes some coaxing to bring Stan, a man with the upright bearing and square jaw of a matinee idol, to speak about his own process — how hard he worked to conjure a sense Trump, and how he sought to bring out new insights about America’s most scrutinized politician.

“I think he’s a lot smarter than people want to say about him,” Stan says, “because he repeats things consistently, and he’s given you a brand.” Stan would know: He watched videos of Trump on a loop while preparing for “The Apprentice.” In the film, out on Oct. 11, Stan plays Trump as he moves from insecure, aspiring real estate developer to still insecure but established member of the New York celebrity firmament.

We’re sitting over coffee in Manhattan. Stan is dressed down in a black chore coat and black tee, yet he’s anything but a casual conversation partner. He rarely breaks eye contact, doing so only on the occasions when he has something he wants to show me on his iPhone (cracked screen, no case). In this instance, it’s folders of photos and videos labeled “DT” and “DT PHYSICALITY.”

“I had 130 videos on his physicality on my phone,” Stan says. “And 562 videos that I had pulled with pictures from different time periods — from the ’70s all the way to today — so I could pull out his speech patterns and try to improvise like him.” Stan, deep in character, would ad-lib entire scenes at director Ali Abbasi’s urging, drawing on the details he’d learned from watching Trump and reading interviews to understand precisely how to react in each moment.

“Ali could come in on the second take and say, ‘Why don’t you talk a little bit about the taxes and how you don’t want to pay?’ So I had to know what charities they were going to in 1983. Every night I would go home and try not only to prepare for the day that was coming, but also to prepare for where Ali was going to take this.”

Looking at Stan’s phone, among the endless pictures of Trump, I glimpse thumbnails of Stan’s own face perched in a Trumpian pout and videos of the actor’s preparation just aching to be clicked — or to be stored in the Trump Presidential Library when this is all over in a few months, or in 2029, or beyond.

“I started to realize that I needed to start speaking with my lips in a different way,” Stan says. “A lot of that came from the consonants. If I’m talking, I’m moving forward.” On film, Stan shapes his mouth like he can’t wait to get the plosives out, puckering without quite tipping into parody. “The consonants naturally forced your lips forward.”

“If he did 10% more of what he did, it would become ‘Saturday Night Live,’” Abbasi says. “If he did 10% less, then he’s not conjuring that person. But here’s the thing about Sebastian: He’s very inspired by reality, by research. And that’s also the way I work; if you want to go to strange places, you need to get your baseline reality covered very well.”

A little later, Stan passes me the phone again to show me a selfie of him posing shirtless and revealing two sagging pecs and a bit of a gut. He’s pouting into a mirror. If his expression looks exaggerated, consider that he was in Marvel-movie shape before stepping into the role of the former president; the body transformation happened rapidly and jarringly. Trump’s size is a part of the film’s plot — as Trump’s sense of self inflates, so does he. In a rush to meet the shooting deadline for “The Apprentice,” Abbasi asked Stan, “How much weight can you gain?”

“You’d be surprised,” Stan tells me. “You can gain a lot of weight in two months.” (Fifteen pounds, to be exact.)

Now he’s back in fighting form, but the character has stayed with him. After years of playing second-fiddle agents of chaos — goofball husbands to Margot Robbie’s and Lily James’ characters in “I, Tonya” and Hulu’s “Pam & Tommy,” surly frenemy to Chris Evans’ Captain America in the Marvel franchise — Stan plunged into the id of the man whose appetites have reshaped our world. He had to have a polished enough sense of Trump that he could improvise in character, and enough respect for him to play him as a human being, not a monster.

It’s one of two transformations this year for Stan — and one that might give a talented actor that most elusive thing: a brand of his own. He’s long been adjacent enough to star power that he could feel its glow, but he hasn’t been the marquee performer. While his co-stars have found themselves defined by the projects he’s been in — from “Captain America” and “I, Tonya” back to his start on “Gossip Girl” — he’s spent more than a decade in the public eye while evading being defined at all.

This fall promises to be the season that changes all that: Stan is pulling double duty with “The Apprentice” and “A Different Man” (in theaters Sept. 20), in which he plays a man afflicted with a disfiguring tumor disorder who — even when presented with a fantastical treatment that makes him look like, well, Sebastian Stan — can’t be cured of ailments of the soul. For “A Different Man,” Stan won the top acting prize at the Berlin Film Festival; for “The Apprentice,” the sky’s the limit, if it can manage to get seen. (More on that later.)

One reason Stan has largely evaded being defined is that he’s never the same twice, often willing to get loopy or go dark in pursuit of his characters’ truths. That’s all the more true this year: In “The Apprentice,” he’s under the carapace of Trumpiness; in “A Different Man,” his face is hidden behind extensive prosthetics.

“In my book, if you’re the good-looking, sensitive guy 20 movies in a row, that’s not a star for me,” says Abbasi, who compares Stan to Marlon Brando — an actor eager to play against his looks. “You’re just one of the many in the factory of the Ken dolls.”

This fall represents Stan’s chance to break out of the toy store once and for all. His Winter Soldier brought a jolt of evil into Captain America’s world, and his Jeff Gillooly was the devil sitting on Tonya Harding’s shoulder. Now Stan is at the center of the frame, playing one of the most divisive characters imaginable. So he’s showing us where he can go. The spotlight is his, and so is the risk that comes with it.

Why take such a risk?

The script for “The Apprentice,” which Stan first received in 2019, but which took years to come together, made him consider the American dream, the one that Trump achieved and is redefining.

Stan emigrated with his mother, a pianist, from communist Romania as a child. “I was raised always aware of the American dream: America being the land of opportunity, where dreams come true, where you can make something of yourself.” He pushes the wings of his hair back to frame his face, a gold signet ring glinting in the late-summer sunlight, and, briefly, I can hear a hint of Trump’s directness of approach. “You can become whoever you want, if you just have a good idea.” Stan’s good idea has been to play the lead in movies while dodging the formulaic identity of a leading man, and this year will prove just how far he can take it.

“The Apprentice” seemed like it would never come together before suddenly it did. This time last year, Stan was sure it was dead in the water, and he was OK with that. “If this movie is not happening, it’s because it’s not meant to happen,” he recalls thinking. “It will not be because I’m too scared and walk away.”

Called in on short notice and filming from November 2023 to January of this year (ahead of a May premiere in Cannes), Stan lent heft and attitude to a character arc that takes Trump from local real estate developer in the 1970s to national celebrity in the 1980s. He learns the rough-and-tumble game of power from the ruthless and hedonistic political fixer Roy Cohn (Jeremy Strong), eventually cutting the closeted Cohn loose as he dies of AIDS and alienating his wife Ivana (Maria Bakalova) in the process. (In a shocking scene, Donald sexually assaults Ivana in their Trump Tower apartment.) For all its edginess, the film is about Trump’s personality — and the way it calcified into a persona — rather than his present-day politics. (Despite its title, it’s set well before the 2004 launch of the reality show that finally made Trump the superstar he longed to be.)

And despite the fact that Trump has kept America rapt since he announced his run for president in 2015, Hollywood has been terrified of “The Apprentice.” The film didn’t sell for months after Cannes, an unusual result for a major English-language competition film, partly because Trump’s legal team sent a cease-and-desist letter attempting to block the film’s release in the U.S. while the fest was still ongoing. When it finally sold, it was to Briarcliff Entertainment, a distributor so small that the production has launched a Kickstarter campaign to raise money so that it will be able to stay in theaters.

Yes, Hollywood may vote blue, but it’s not the same town that released “Fahrenheit 9/11” or even “W.,” let alone a film that depicts the once (and possibly future) president raping his wife. (The filmmakers stand behind that story. “The script is 100% backed by my own interviews and historical research,” says Gabriel Sherman, the screenwriter and a journalist who covers Trump and the American conservative movement. “And it’s important to note that it is not a documentary. It’s a work of fiction that’s inspired by history.”) Entertainment corporations from Netflix to Disney would be severely inconvenienced if the next president came into office with a grudge against them.

“I am quite shocked, to be honest,” Abbasi says. “This is not a political piece. It’s not a hit piece; it’s not a hatchet job; it’s not propaganda. The fact that it’s been so challenging is shocking.” Abbasi, born in Iran, was condemned by his government over his last film, “Holy Spider,” and cannot safely return. He sees a parallel in the response to “The Apprentice.” “OK, that’s Iran — that is unfortunately expected. But I wasn’t expecting this.”

“Everything with this film has been one day at a time,” Stan says. The actor chalks up the film’s divisiveness to a siloed online environment. “There are a lot of people who love reading the [film’s] Wikipedia page and throwing out their opinions,” he says, an edge entering his voice. “But they don’t actually know what they’re talking about. That’s a popular sport now online, apparently.”

Unprompted, Stan brings up the idea that Trump is so widely known that some might think a biographical film about him serves no purpose. “When someone says, ‘Why do we need this movie? We know all this,’ I’ll say, ‘Maybe you do, but you haven’t experienced it. The experience of those two hours is visceral. It’s something you can hopefully feel — if you still have feelings.’”

After graduating from Rutgers in 2005, Stan found his first substantial role on “Gossip Girl,” playing troubled rich kid Carter Baizen. Like teen soaps since time immemorial, “Gossip Girl” was a star-making machine. “It was the first time I was in serious love with somebody,” he says. (He dated the series’ star, Leighton Meester, from 2008 to 2010.) He feels nostalgic for that moment: “Walking around the city, seeing these same buildings and streets — life seemed simpler.”

Stan followed his “Gossip Girl” gig with roles on the 2009 NBC drama “Kings,” playing a devious gay prince in an alternate-reality modern world governed by a monarchy, and the 2012 USA miniseries “Political Animals,” playing a black-sheep prince (and once again a gay man) of a different sort — the son of a philandering former president and an ambitious former first lady.

When I ask him what lane he envisioned himself in as a young actor, he shrugs off the question. “I grew up with a single mom, and I didn’t have a lot of male role models. I was always trying to figure out what I wanted to be. And at some point, I was like, I could just be a bunch of things.”

Which might seem challenging when one is booked to play the same character, Bucky Barnes, in Marvel movie after Marvel movie. Bucky’s adventures have been wide-ranging — he’s been brainwashed and turned evil and then brought back to the home team again, all since his debut in 2011’s “Captain America: The First Avenger.” Next year, he’ll anchor the summer movie “Thunderbolts,” as the leader of a squad of quirky heroes played by, among others, Julia Louis-Dreyfus and Florence Pugh. It’s easy to wonder if this has come to feel like a cage of sorts.

Not so, says Stan. His new Marvel film “was kind of like ‘One Flew Over the Cuckoo’s Nest’ — a guy coming into this group that was chaotic and degenerate, and somehow finding a way to unite them.”

Lately, knives have been out for Marvel movies as some have disappointed at the box office, and “Thunderbolts,” which endured strike delays and last-minute cast changes, has been under scrutiny.

“It’s become really convenient to pick on [Marvel films],” Stan says. “And that’s fine. Everyone’s got an opinion. But they’re a big part of what contributes to this business and allows us to have smaller movies as well. This is an artery traveling through the system of this entire machinery that’s Hollywood. It feeds in so many more ways than people acknowledge.” He adds, “Sometimes I get protective of it because the intention is really fucking good. It’s just fucking hard to make a good movie over and over again.”

Which may account for an eagerness to try something new. “In the last couple of years,” he says, “I’ve gotten much more aggressive about pursuing things that I want, and I’m constantly looking for different ways of challenging myself.”

The challenge continued throughout the shoot of “The Apprentice,” as Stan pushed the material. “One of the most creatively rewarding parts of the process was how open Sebastian was to giving notes on the script but also wanting to go beyond the script,” says Sherman, the screenwriter. “If he was interested in a certain aspect of a scene, he was like, Can you find me a quote?” he recalls.

Building a dynamic through improvised scenes, Stan and Strong stayed in character throughout the “Apprentice” shoot. “I was doing an Ibsen play on Broadway,” says Strong, who won a Tony in June for his performance in “An Enemy of the People,” “and he came backstage afterwards. And it was like — I’d never really met Sebastian, and I don’t think he’d ever met me. So it was nice to meet him.”

Before the pair began acting together, they didn’t rehearse much — “I’m not a fan of rehearsals,” Strong says. “I think actors are best left in their cocoon, doing their work, and then trusted to walk on set and be ready.” The two didn’t touch the script together until cameras went up — though they spent a preproduction day, Strong says, playing games in character as Donald and Roy.

After filming, both have kept memories of the hold their characters had on them. They shared a flight back from Telluride — a famously bumpy trip out of the mountains. “He’s a nervous flyer, and I’m a nervous flyer,” Stan says. Both marveled at the fact that they’d contained their nerves on the first day of shooting “The Apprentice,” when their characters traveled together via helicopter. “We both go, ‘Yeah — but there was a camera.’”

Stan’s aggressive approach to research came in handy on “A Different Man,” which shot before “The Apprentice.” His character’s disorder, neurofibromatosis, is caused by a genetic mutation and presents as benign tumors growing in the nervous system. After being healed, he feels a growing envy for a fellow sufferer who seems unbothered by his disability.

Stan’s co-star, Adam Pearson, was diagnosed with neurofibromatosis in early childhood. Stan found the experience challenging to render faithfully. “I said many times, I can do all the research in the world, but am I ever going to come close to this?” Stan says. “How am I going to ever do this justice?”

Plus, he had precious little time to prepare: “He was fully on board, and the film was being made weeks later,” director Aaron Schimberg says. “Zero to 60 in a matter of weeks.”

The actor grappled for something to hold on to, and Pearson sug gested he refer to his own experience of fame. “Adam said to me, ‘You know what it’s like to be public property,’” Stan says.

Pearson recalls describing the experience to Stan this way: “While you don’t understand the invasiveness and the staring and the pointing that I’ve grown up with, you do know what it’s like to have the world think you owe them something.”

That sense of alienation becomes universal through the film’s storytelling: “A Different Man” takes its premise as the jumping-off point for a deep and often mordant investigation of who we all are underneath the skin.

The film was shot in 22 days in a New York City heat wave, and there was, Schimberg says, “no room for error. I would get four or five takes, however many I could squeeze out, but there’s no coverage.”

Through it all, Stan’s performance is utterly poised — Schimberg and Stan discussed Buster Keaton as a reference for his ability to be “completely stone-faced” amid chaos, the director says. And the days were particularly long because Oscar-nominated prosthetics artist Michael Marino was only able to apply Stan’s makeup in the early morning, before going to his job on the set of “The Marvelous Mrs. Maisel.”

“Even though I wasn’t shooting until 11 a.m., I would go at like 5 in the morning to his studio, or his apartment,” Stan recalls. The hidden advantage was that Stan had hours to kill while made up like his character, the kind of person the world looks past. “I wanted to walk around the city and see what happened,” Stan says. “On Broadway, one of the busiest streets in New York, no one’s looking at me. It’s as if I’m not even there.” The other reaction was worse: “Somebody would immediately stop and very blatantly hit their friend, point, take a picture.”

It was a study in empathy that flowed into the character. Stan had spoken to Pearson’s mother, who watched her son develop neurofibromatosis before growing into a disability advocate and, eventually, an actor. “She said to me, ‘All I ever wanted was for someone to walk in his shoes for a day,’” Stan recalls. “And I guess that was the closest I had ever come.”

“The Apprentice” forced Stan, and forces the viewer, to do the same with a figure that some 50% of the electorate would sooner forget entirely. And that lends the film its controversy. Those on the right, presupposing that the movie is an anti-Trump document, have railed against it. In a statement provided to Variety, a Trump campaign spokesman said, “This ‘film’ is pure malicious defamation, should never see the light of day and doesn’t even deserve a place in the straight-to-DVD section of a bargain bin at a soon-to-be-closed discount movie store, it belongs in a dumpster fire.” The campaign threatened a lawsuit, though none has materialized.

Asked about the assault scene, Stan notes that Ivana had made the claim in a deposition, but later walked it back. “Is it closer to the truth, what she had said directly in the deposition or something that she retracted?” he asks. “They went with the first part.”

The movie depicts, too, Ivana’s carrying on with her marriage after the violation, which may be still more devastating. “How do you overcome something like this?” asks Bakalova. “Do you have to put on a mask that everything is fine? In the next scene, she’s going to play the game and pretend that we’re the glamorous, perfect couple.” The Trumps, in “The Apprentice,” live in a world of paper-thin images, one that grows so encompassing that Donald no longer feels anything for the people to whom he was once loyal. They’re props in his stage show.

“The Apprentice” will drop in the midst of the most chaotic presidential election of our lifetime. “The way it lands in this extremely polarized situation, for me as an artist, is exciting. I won’t lie to you,” says Abbasi.

When asked if he was concerned about blowback from a Trump 47 presidency, Stan says, “You can’t do this movie and not be thinking about all those things, but I really have no idea. I’m still in shock from going from an assassination attempt to the next weekend having a president step down [from a reelection bid].”

Stan’s job, as he sees it, was to synthesize everything he’d absorbed — all those videos on his phone — into a person who made sense. This Trump had to be part of a coherent story, not just the flurry of news updates to which we’ve become accustomed.

“You can take a Bach or a Beethoven, and everyone’s going to play that differently on the piano, right?” Stan says. (His pianist mother named him for Johann Sebastian Bach.) “So this is my take on what I’ve learned. I have to strip myself of expectations of being applauded for this, if people are going to like it or people are going to hate it. People are going to say whatever they want. Hopefully they should think at least before they say it.”

It’s a reality that Stan is now used to — the work is the work, and the way people interpret him is none of his business. Perhaps that’s why he has run away from ever being the same thing twice. “I could sit with you today and tell you passionately what my truth is, but it doesn’t matter,” he says. “Because people are more interested in a version of you that they want to see, rather than who you are.”

“The Apprentice” has been the subject of extreme difference of opinion by many who have yet to see it. It’s been read — and will continue to be after its release — as anti-Trump agitprop. The truth is chewier and more complicated, and, perhaps, unsuited for these times.

“Are we going to live in a world where anyone knows what the truth is anymore? Or is it just a world that everyone wants to create for themselves?” Stan asks.

His voice — the one that shares a slight accent with Trump but that is, finally, Stan’s own — is calm and clear. “People create their own truth right now,” he says. “That’s the only thing that I’ve made peace with; I don’t need to twist your arm if that’s what you want to believe. But the way to deal with something is to actually confront it.”